The Three Portals
by violingrl07
Summary: After the final battle, Hermione is trapped. Then fate sends her much further from home than she could have imagined, into the arms of Tom Riddle. Ambition and fear war with love and integrity as Hermione tries to create a new future for the whole world.
1. The End of the World

Chapter One – The End of the World

Disclaimer: Nothing from J.K. Rowling's books belongs to me, including, but not limited to characters, settings, plot, and spells. If I ever claim them, may I be Avada Kedavra-ed until I am dead.

* * *

The ruins stood as a testament to all of what awaited anyone who dared scorn the will of the Dark Lord. Visible to Muggle and wizard alike, the remains of what had once been the premiere institute of learning in the Wizarding World would endure for all time, protected from the elements, attack or reconstruction by an impenetrable globe of pure magic, created by the Dark Lord himself.

Inside the castle, all was quiet. The magic stairs, moving portraits, and enchanted ceiling in the Great Hall had been stilled. Only the most fundamental enchantments remained, those anchored in the rock of the castle by the Founders themselves, preventing the collapse of the rooms and ensuring at least the survival, if not necessarily comfort, of anyone in the most dire of need.

A rustle sounded through the dead halls. The school's last student was awakening, finally revived by youthful health from the abuse her body had taken during the Final Battle.

The girl's hand twitched, stretching out unconsciously for her fallen wand. Her searching fingers brushed the wood, then grasped it. She opened her eyes.

The scream echoed infinitely, forevermore audible to one who takes the time to stand silently for a moment with their ear close to the stone.

* * *

Hermione Granger screamed, oblivious to the protest of her parched throat. Facing her was the corpse of Neville Longbottom. He had been hit by a curse that sliced from his left ear to under his right arm. Part of his jaw had been severed and now lay upon the stone floor, connected only by a flap of skin from his neck, and the bone of his ribcage was visible through the torn flesh left by the curse, dark with clotted blood.

Some part of Hermione's brain compared the severed jaw to models she had seen in her parents' dental practice. Neville had needed braces and should have had his wisdom teeth extracted.

Hermione closed her eyes and rolled away from the horrific visage of her schoolmate. She lay motionless, then heaved. Her body attempted to rid itself of the poison it had ingested, not able to differentiate between poison of the body and poison of the psyche.

She knew the war was over. The dead had not been buried and the Light had lost. She only wondered why she, the most famous Mudblood in the Wizarding World, was still alive. The nausea did not completely pass, but once her stomach had calmed, she opened her eyes once again. Scrabbling to her feet, she looked around the hall. For a moment, she was unable to comprehend the sheer number of dead students, teachers and Order members. One by one, she picked out her former professors and classmates from the corpses as she walked across the room. Then she stopped. Black hair tousled, glasses akimbo, glassy green eyes staring at the ceiling, Harry Potter was dead. His wand lay broken beside him, the strands of the red phoenix feather limp with his blood.

The world went black.

Hermione opened her eyes once more. Harry Potter was dead. There was no one left to fight. There was only her, Hermione Granger, alone in the ruins of the Last Battle.

* * *

Hermione soon learned that she could not leave Hogwarts. She sat in the Great Hall, looking over the destruction left in Voldemort's wake. Ignorant of whether it was day or night, she grieved, sometimes silently, sometimes shrieking as though her screams would wake the dead sleeping on the ground.

Finally, she stood again and squared her shoulders. She began going to each corpse. She removed their wands and sometimes a few personal effects and conjured a note giving the name of their owner. When she was finished and had placed everything in a nearly classroom, she began the more difficult self-imposed task.

Tears running down her face silently, she began. Blue flames consumed the bodies. Hours later, the last flame went out.

"_Evanesco_," Hermione murmured brokenly. The ashes disappeared. She sunk to the floor.

* * *

_A green light rushed toward Harry. _

"_Harry, watch out!" Hermione screamed._

_He fell, half turned to her._

"_Ah, the Chosen One's pet Mudblood," a sibilant voice said. _

_Hermione looked up from Harry's fallen form into red eyes. _

"_Avada Kedavra."_

* * *

Hermione woke up, soaked with sweat. She looked around the hall, taking in the silence and emptiness around her.

There was nothing else to be done, and she could not sleep any longer.

She left the Great Hall, planning never to re-enter it.

* * *

One month later found Hermione still trapped inside the castle. She had lost considerable weight, in spite of the vast supply of food in the kitchens, and rarely slept more than a few hours at a time.

She spent most of her time in the library. The same as it had always been, she could almost believe that Madam Pince would materialize around the corner, watching for any mistreatment of the treasures of her domain.

However, Hermione was not the same as she had always been. She went straight to the Restricted Section, filling her mind with the knowledge that had been forbidden. She read incessantly, desperately.

* * *

Yet another month later, Hermione had read everything of interest in the Restricted Section. Her hair had lost its characteristic bushiness and hung like a curtain in limp spirals around her face. Her face was shadowed and gaunt, and her hands had begun to look skeletal.

She had taken to wandering the halls of Hogwarts like a wraith, exploring every room, though never entering the Great Hall. Finally, she stood in front of the last room that she knew of.

"Cockroach Cluster."

"Lemon drop."

"Acid pops."

"Canary Cream."

"Peppermint humbug."

"Chocolate frog."

The stairs began to spiral upward as Hermione named one of her first experiences with magical candy. She entered Dumbledore's office.

The magical devices were still spinning and the faint scent of lemon drops wafted from a crystal bowl on the cluttered desk. The portraits snored in their frames, unaware or uncaring of the lifelessness of their home. Hermione saw a door in the back of the office that she had never seen before. She turned the doorknob and entered the room. It appeared to be Dumbledore's private suite. She assumed that his death had destroyed the wards on the door.

The rooms looked nothing like what one would expect of debatably the world's most powerful wizard. They were fairly plain, comfort clearly more important than impressiveness. But even odder than the contrast to expectations was the completely bare back wall, unobstructed by furniture or decor except for a stone doorway, covered with runes.

It looked familiar.

* * *

The last month of summer passed. School would have been starting any day. Hermione had spent the past month studying more intensely than she would have even if she had been preparing for her N.E.W.T.s. She had been right. She had seen the archway before in a little musty volume she had found behind a book on chimeric Animages. It was called the Portal of Thwarted Fate. There was not much information on the doorway, except a theoretical explanation of how one might use it and a very general description of what it might do. The unknown author suggested that it could send someone into the unknown, defying the path lain out for them and creating a new destiny irrespective of their original circumstances.

It did not take Hermione long to decide to attempt the ritual. According to the book, she should need only to read the spell written in runes on the arch correctly and be completely single-minded about her decision. There was one detail about which she was slightly concerned, that the caster be garbed by death, but she refused to believe that it could be anything other than metaphorical. And if that were the case, she had seen and caused more than enough death to be adequately garbed.

Around the beginning of September, Hermione was ready to attempt her journey. She gathered a few things that she thought might be useful, money she had found in the dormitories, the book instructing her about the portal, a few other rare volumes, a plain change of robes and a single personal item, Harry's Invisibility Cloak.

She stood in front of the portal with her bag on her shoulder and chanted the spell. Nothing happened. Refusing to accept defeat, she looked through her notes again. Changing her pronunciation of one of the more obscure runes, she tried again.

A white mist fluttered in the portal, moved by a nonexistent breeze, before disappearing into the black abyss created by the spell. Hermione shifted her bag and stepped into the void, destroying all that had happened in the future and creating a new world.

* * *

AN: So, there's the first redone chapter. Actually, it was completely rewritten. As I said in the note posted earlier tonight, it will vary. Please review, even if only to harass me for removing all the chapters on such short notices, or no notice, you might contend. I think that it will be a bit darker and more deserving of the genre "Drama" this time around. Give me your thoughts.


	2. Recreating Fate

Chapter Two - Recreating Fate

Disclaimer: I own nothing except this miserable plot line. Everything else is J.K. Rowling's.

In the moment after stepping into the void, Hermione felt formless. Yet, she could almost feel hands touching her and voices whispering. Later, she would swear that she had heard Dumbledore's voice saying, "Good luck, Hermione." After what seemed to be either an instant or hours, her newly reformed feet settled on something solid.

Upon glancing around, she found herself in the Hogwarts Library, in the doorway of the restricted section. The setting sun was shining through the windows illuminating the floating dust.

Hermione looked around hopefully. The library was empty, just as it had been the last hundred times she had entered it. She was silent, waiting for a sign that something besides the equivalent of Apparation within Hogwarts had occurred. It was in vain. She began walking through the shelves, not noticing the lack of dust or the scent of freshly varnished wood. At the end of an aisle, she collapsed to the floor, shuddering and taking in deep, gasping breaths.

"Could you please be quiet out there, some people use the library to study instead of a place to sob after getting their stupid selves lost," a voice said exasperatedly from behind a bookshelf.

"Who are you?" she asked, hoping to discover something about her situation.

"Obviously you are a new transfer student or a first-year who was held back until they demonstrated enough maturity to handle living away from home. Otherwise, you would know that I am Head Boy and not someone accustomed to being yelled at by idiots who can't find their way to the Great Hall for the Sorting Ceremony" the voice replied scornfully.

Hermione leaped to her feet. "Where are you? Let me see you," she ordered with a voice hoarse from lack of use as she drew her wand from her robes. She heard footsteps approaching her from behind the shelf.

A tall boy with black hair and glacial grey eyes appeared before her.

"Can you see me?" he asked caustically.

Hermione could not believe that she was in the presence of a living human being after the endless days of solitude. She reached out her hand as if to touch him, but he grabbed it, forced it down, and stepped away from her.

"You are real," she murmured.

"Why would you think that I am not real?" he asked coolly.

"No reason, I just didn't expect anyone to be in here," she answered somewhat honestly, rather obviously avoiding eye contact.

"As you know, since you appear to be a student, school started today. The library is technically open, though you are supposed to be in the Great Hall."

"School started today?" Hermione said to herself, turning away from the Head Boy.

"How stupid are you, exactly?" he asked. "Why else would you be here?"

Hermione ignored his comment, thoughts churning in her head. One floated to the surface. She turned around again.

"Is Dumbledore here?" she asked desperately.

"Yes, but he is in the _Great Hall_ with everyone else," he replied, exasperation evident in his every gesture. He looked over her appearance and noticed the Gryffindor crest on the clasp of her cloak. "Since you've been Sorted, you ought to know where it is. Now follow me."

Hermione walked mechanically toward the entrance to the library behind the Head Boy. She followed him through the halls that she knew so well. Her dread increased as they drew nearer to the place where she had burned the corpses. She could almost smell the burning flesh, stinging her nose. Right before they entered the Great Hall, she turned to the student next to her, hoping to distract herself from the memories.

"What is your name?" She almost cringed at such an inane question.

"Tom Riddle." He opened the doors just in time for the entire student body to see Hermione collapse and Tom Marvolo Riddle, Head Boy, catch her against himself before she reached the stone floor.

* * *

Hermione started upon waking in a white hospital bed, but she relaxed when she saw Dumbledore's twinkling blue eyes.

"How are you feeling, Miss…?"

"Granger, Hermione Granger, sir. I'm fine," she answered.

"Are you sure about that Miss Granger?" he asked gently. "According to Madam Flager you are severely undernourished and show symptoms of a few curses that were not properly removed. You are completely safe here," he assured her.

"What is the date?" she asked, staring at his auburn hair and beard, face filled with confusion.

"It is September 4, 1944, a Monday and the first day of the term."

"How did I get here?" she whispered, never expecting that changing her fate would involve so much.

"Mr. Riddle was kind enough to carry you here after you fainted in the Great Hall. You gave everyone quite a shock, our Head Boy included, I daresay."

"Tom Riddle?"she asked. She hoped that she had misheard.

"Yes, he is our Head Boy and a member of Slytherin House. I think he is still here if you would like to meet him."

Hermione closed her eyes, trying to make sense of her situation.

Footsteps sounded on the tile floor.

"Professor, may I return to my rooms?" Tom asked as he stepped into view around the curtains when Dumbledore mentioned him. "I need to prepare for my classes tomorrow."

Hermione's eyes snapped open at the voice of the person who would become the murderer of everything she had ever loved. She frantically cast her eyes about searching for her wand.

Failing to spot it, she watched him with the fear and hatred of a cornered wolf, crazed by pain from its wounds.

Tom's face was emotionless as he waited for Dumbledore's response, though he definitely noticed Hermione's reaction to him.

"Go ahead, Mr. Riddle. I will see you in Transfiguration tomorrow." Tom turned and left the room silently.

"Though I would have preferred to wait until you were better rested, I must ask you what you are doing here, Miss Granger," Dumbledore continued once Tom was gone. "You are obviously a witch and appear to be a sixth or seventh year. You are even wearing Gryffindor robes. Yet, I have never seen you before, and I am the Head of Gryffindor House."

"I don't think that I can tell you…I mean, I shouldn't," she rambled. "…I am in Gryffindor but…well, it's very difficult to explain."

"Very well then. I will give you time to think and talk to you again tomorrow. Madam Flager says that you are to stay here overnight to give her time to fully reverse the curses you suffered and make sure that you are physically well enough for classes. Good night, Miss Granger."

* * *

Hermione was woken up the next morning by the cheerful voice of the school nurse.

"Wake up, dear. You're well enough to be up and about and Professor Dumbledore is here to see you. I've brought you a fresh set of robes and your bag is on that chair. Just come up to the front of the ward when you're dressed," she said.

Hermione took her time, not looking forward to what she was afraid would become an interrogation.

"Good morning, Miss Granger. Why don't we go to my office for a bit more privacy?"

Hermione nodded in agreement and followed her former Headmaster office, completely oblivious to her surroundings as she fretted about what she was going to say.

"Is there anything you would like to tell me, Miss Granger?" he asked after they were seated, he behind his desk and she in an overstuffed red chair.

"Not reall…" Her voice dropped off. "What is that?" she asked, trying to hide her shock as she pointed to the stone arch against the back wall.

"It is just a curiosity piece. I take it that you have seen it before?" he asked, looking at her intently.

"Yes, well, not here, but somewhere else," she replied, uncomfortable lying to her form Headmaster.

"Most curious, as I have been in possession of it for several years. That is the Portal of Thwarted Fate. Supposedly, it can rescue a witch or wizard from their fate, though the means by which it achieves this aim are not known. Unfortunately, the instructions to it have been lost for centuries. According to legend, they are found only by those that the portal chooses to help on their way. It is also said to be completely irreversible by any magical means or otherwise," he said. At this, Hermione turned pale.

"Completely irreversible?" she inquired weakly.

"If one desired so strongly to remove themselves from their situation, why would they want to be able to undo their choice? Do _you_ truly want to return to the place from whence you came?" he asked.

"No," she answered, "but I never expected anything like this to happen."

"What exactly happened, Miss Granger?"

"I seem to have been sent back fifty years."

At this Dumbledore's eyebrows rose upon his forehead. "Perhaps you ought to explain why you felt the need to use the portal in the first place, Miss Granger," he suggested. "I assure you that anything you choose to tell me will not leave this room."

With this reassurance, Hermione began to tell Dumbledore the events of the past several months, though not in great detail, only revealing that she had been a student at Hogwarts when a dark wizard destroyed the school and left her trapped inside, completely alone with no options other than to use the portal.

"In light of your situation, I think it would be best for you to finish out your schooling here at Hogwarts. If you feel well enough, I will speak with Headmaster Dippet and the other professors about Sorting you and testing your aptitude to determine your dormitory and schedule," he spoke after she finished her narrative.

Hermione nodded her assent. Dumbledore smiled compassionately before disappearing through the fireplace, presumable to speak with the Headmaster. He returned only moments later.

"The Headmaster is willing to see you now for Sorting. I have told him that you are the daughter of some family friends who died in the Muggle War, so he will not question you about your past. Since you have been Sorted before, you have nothing to worry about. Follow me, please."

Hermione walked with Dumbledore to the gargoyle that hid the spiral staircase to the Headmaster's office. He murmured the password and walked up the stairs, gesturing for her to follow.

"I will wait outside. Good luck," he offered, opening, then closing the door behind her.

The Headmaster was crouched over his desk, his bald head shining and nose twitching like a rabbit's.

She cleared her throat and he jumped up.

"You must be Miss Granger, here to be Sorted. I am Headmaster Dippet. Welcome to Hogwarts. Well, just slip on the hat over there on the stool and we'll see where you belong."

Hermione pulled the hat onto her head and waited for the voice of the hat to speak.

"_Miss Granger, being Sorted once wasn't enough for you? But I can see that you have changed a great deal since I last looked through your head."_

"_Yes, but I belong in Gryffindor," _Hermione thought.

"_Now you do. Remember I wanted to put you in Ravenclaw," _the hat reminded her. _"You are more than suited for Godric's house, though you have put a bit too much effort into the Dark Arts than he would have preferred, now that I look more closely. Hmm… What's that? A hint of Slytherin? Buried ambition, perhaps? Or maybe cunning, not unexpected with your history. But overall, I have to say _GRYFFINDOR!" the hat shouted.

"Congratulations, Miss Granger," Professor Dippet said feebly. "I'm sure Professor Dumbledore, your Head of House, will show you to your dormitory. Dumbledore will give you your schedule."

Hermione left the office.

"Am I correct that I have a new student in my house?" Dumbledore asked, eyes twinkling.

"Yes," Hermione answered, smiling tiredly.

"Then I will show you to your room. You are seventeen years old?"

"Yes, and I turn eighteen in a few weeks."

"Then I shall put you in with seventh year girls. I am sure that you will prove yourself capable of continuing your education where you left off. I will have several uniforms, school items and a trunk sent up to you, since you appear to have none."

"I think I have enough to pay for them myself, sir," Hermione said as they walked through the very familiar halls toward the Gryffindor common room.

"Perhaps, but you may need your money once you have graduated, since you have no family here to help you. It is no problem. Hogwarts has funds set aside to help students with great financial need. You are not the first to have availed yourself of it and you will not be the last. Here we are, your common room. The password is 'Valor.' Go up the left staircase to the end of the hall. Your dormitory is the last door on the right. I will see you in the Great Hall at dinner. Then I would like to meet with you to discuss the courses you plan on taking this year."

Hermione flinched at the mention of seeing the Great Hall again. "Do you think I could take my dinner in the room for tonight? I want to get accustomed to my room," she lied.

He looked at her intently, seeming to see through her untruth, but agreed. "Very well, but only tonight."

"Thank you."

Hermione walked slowly to her new room. The beds were not yet made, so she easily found the unclaimed one. She curled up on top of the covers, hugging her bag to her chest and fell into an uneasy sleep.

* * *

"Is she sleeping?" Hermione heard someone whisper.

"I think so," another answered. Someone walked toward to door and left just as someone else entered.

"Why are you whispering, Minnie?" a third girl giggled loudly.

"Because the new girl is here sleeping," the girl called Minnie whispered furiously.

"Really? She's in our room?" the loud girl shrieked.

Hermione rubbed her eyes and sat up. As soon as the girl noticed, she began talking.

"Hi, I'm Louisa Brown, so pleased to meet you, we were all wondering who you were during the feast, there are so few transfer students, especially in the higher years. Did you say what your name is yet? Oh, I haven't given you a chance, sorry." With that, she became completely silent.

"Um…Hi. I'm Hermione Granger," replied Hermione, glancing about nervously.

"Oh, that's wonderful, what a neat name, isn't that from a myth or something?" Louisa asked.

"Minerva," she called across the room, "What is the name Hermione from? That's Minerva McGonagall" Louisa commented to Hermione. "She knows practically everything. She should have been Head Girl, but some snob in Ravenclaw got it. We all swear that her father paid Dippet to choose her." Hermione was too astonished at seeing her future Tranfigurations professor in a tartan nightgown to pay close attention to the chatter.

"Pleased to meet you," said Minerva as she walked up to shake Hermione's hand. "I hope for your own sake that you know how to make a Silencing Potion," she added with a quirky grin.

"Louisa," she continued, "Hermione was the daughter of Helen of Troy and Menelaus, remember, the witch who gave Paris a love potion?"

"Oh, how romantic, I love that story. I've always thought that Paris must have looked a lot like Tom Riddle. Have you met him yet? Don't you think he's the most handsome boy you've ever seen?" Louisa said with a sigh, somehow maintaining her two-hundred words per minute speed.

"Yes, I've met him," Hermione said coolly, trying to keep her hatred of the boy who would become Lord Voldemort from her voice. Based on what the girl had already said, Hermione didn't think she would appreciate it. "He seems just like any other arrogant Slytherin to me. He managed to call me silly, stupid, and immature in the first three minutes of our conversation."

"Oooooh, you've already spoken to him? You are so lucky!" Louisa squealed. "I've been trying to get him to speak to me for two years!"

"Yes, we know, Louisa," said Minerva. "It's time for dinner," she changed the subject. "Are you going, Hermione?"

"No, I'm having dinner here tonight.

"We'll see you later, then. Come on, Louisa," Minerva said, rolling her eyes at Louisa's continuing prattle.

Hermione looked at the grandfather clock against the wall. It was a quarter after six. She heard a pop as a house elf appeared with a heaping tray of food.

"Here is Miss's dinner," the elf said timidly.

"Thank you," Hermione replied kindly. "What is your name?"

"You is wanting to know Lorry's name?" the elf asked disbelievingly.

"Your name is Lorry? I'm Hermione."

"Hello, Miss Hermynee. I hopes Miss enjoys her dinner. You can call Lorry if you needs anything," the elf said before disappearing.

"Good-bye," Hermione said to the empty room.

* * *

Hermione stepped out of the Gryffindor common room into the hallway. She looked both ways and tried to remember how to get to Dumbledore's office. She hadn't been paying attention when he led her there earlier. She heard someone approaching. Her hand went to her wand reflexively. Tom Riddle appeared around the corner.

"Dumbledore asked me to show you the way to his office after dinner, since I am Head Boy. Follow me," he commanded.

Deciding that silence was the best course of action, she followed him without a word, though she didn't hesitate to allow her hatred for him to show on her face, since she was unobserved.

When they arrived at the office, Tom turned to her and said, "Have a nice term, I probably won't see you again since I doubt that you and I will have any of the same classes, even if you are a seventh-year." He walked off without another word, leaving her to glare after him.

"So Miss Granger, what classes have you had in the future?" Dumbledore said, smiling as she seated herself in his office.

Schooling her face, Hermione began listing them off: "NEWT-level Potions, Arithmancy, Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Ancient Runes, Herbology and History of Magic."

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows and looked at her over his half-moon glasses. "Are those all of them, Miss Granger?" he asked, eyes twinkling.

"Yes," she said somewhat defensively.

"You misunderstand me, Miss Granger, your schedule is very impressive. Do you mind if I ask what your O.W.L. scores were?"

"I got ten O.W.L.s, all Os except in Defense Against the Dark Arts, where I got an E, but I'm confident that my extra study over the last year and a half more than makes up for it. I dropped Astronomy and Care of Magical Creatures last year. That's why I only have eight classes instead of ten," she explained.

"It appears that you will have the same schedule as our Head Boy for this term. In order not to arouse suspicion about your knowledge of the castle, I will have him show you to your classes tomorrow from the Great Hall. I expect to see you there for breakfast," he said seriously, looking over his glasses.

"Yes, sir, I'll be there," she answered quietly. A small portion of the dread she felt at the prospect appeared on her face.

"Very good. Good night, Miss Granger."

"Good night, Professor."


	3. The First Day

Chapter Three – The First Day

Disclaimer: Once again, I deny ownership of anything belonging to J.K. Rowling.

Hermione woke up feeling unusually refreshed, having had the best night's sleep since before the Final Battle. She remembered suddenly that not only was she stuck, likely forever, in 1944, but that she had met the boy who would become Lord Voldemort and had been ordered to appear in the Great Hall, the floor of which had been covered in the corpses of almost everyone she knew the last time she had seen it. This led to Hermione rolling over into her pillow and trying to go back to sleep for the first time in her years at Hogwarts.

Someone pushed on her shoulder. Hermione had her wand at Louisa's throat in less than a second.

"Umm, do you think you could move your wand?" Louisa asked nervously when she saw Hermione's merciless expression. Hermione realized what had happened and quickly moved her wand an smiled wanly before moving to go back to sleep.

"Hermione," Louisa shrieked, already forgetting the incident, "you have to get up! We only have two hours before breakfast and you still have to bathe, wash your hair, and get ready. Of course I'll help you with your hair, but it will still take a while." Minerva looked over from her bed where she was studying Arithmancy and decided a rescue was in order. The other girls in the dormitory either glanced at her quickly and grinned or were still sleeping.

"Hermione, I'll show you where the bathrooms are. Since you are a seventh year, it will be alright for you to use the Prefect's Baths, I think. If not, you can just tell them that you didn't realize there were any others," she said mischievously. Hermione gaped at her for a moment, before closing her mouth and following.

'_Is this really Professor McGonagall?'_ she wondered. '_She is breaking a rule and it's only the first day of school! And she's a Prefect!'_

"Louisa really is a nice girl, and actually quite smart once you get to know her, very good at divination for whatever that's worth. She just has trouble remembering that there is more to life than boys and hair charms," Minerva commented, mistakenly thinking that Hermione's shocked look was in response to Louisa's chatter.

"Oh," stuttered Hermione, "I don't mind. She reminds me of a girl at my old school," she sighed, remembering Lavender Brown.

They soon arrived at the baths, where Minerva left Hermione, reminding her that breakfast started at eight o' clock. Hermione undressed, got into the bath, and began to lather up her hair. She hadn't taken time to do more than a quick shower every day when she had been trapped at Hogwarts over the summer and was now reveling in the scented bubbles and water. About half an hour later, she dragged herself from the water, slipped on her old crimson robe, complete with frayed hem, and plodded contentedly back to the dormitory. Upon reaching the Fat Lady, she realized in shock that she couldn't remember the password. Clad in only her robe, she was beginning to get chilled. After ten minutes, she heard the sound of footsteps over her chattering teeth. The person creating them did nothing to increase her good humour.

"Well, what do we have here?" Tom Riddle asked with a smirk. "A student locked out of their common room and it's not even breakfast yet. You are lucky that you have such a responsible Head Boy willing to make rounds at quarter to seven in the morning just in case some idiot forgets her password," he added snidely, as he glanced at her less-than-impressive attire. Face matching the color of the cotton, Hermione cinched her robe tighter around her waist and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Could you just let me in?" she replied, feeling a little self-conscious as he continued inspecting her.

"What, not even a 'Please, Tom'? How impolite. Maybe I should just leave you here. I know for a fact that none of the Gryffindors ever manage to leave for breakfast until 7:45. That gives you about an hour to stand here freezing," he added with a malicious grin.

"I do have my wand, so I highly doubt that I would freeze," Hermione responded in a monotone voice, attempting to ignore the source of her vexation.

"But you might be late, not a good impression to make on your first day of class."

"Then I will deal with it, leave me," Hermione ordered. She was starting to lose control of her temper.

"Why would I do that? I am supposed to look out for all of Hogwarts' students. I'm just trying to help."

"I don't believe you."

"Why not?" Tom asked innocently, a dangerous light appearing deep in his eyes.

"You may have fooled everyone else at this school, but you will not fool me, Tom," she said coldly, "I do not trust you and I will never trust you."

"Hermione, you simply cannot say something like that and expect me not to encourage you to explain yourself," he responded lightly as he stepped within a foot of her.

"I have nothing more to say to you. I am completely willing to wait here for someone to open the door."

Tom reached down and tilted her head up, forcing her to meet his eyes. It took her a few seconds before she recovered from the shock and wrenched her face away.

"Do not touch me again," she warned quietly.

When Tom had seen Hermione standing outside of the Gryffindor Common Room, he had planned on merely commenting about her apparent lack of intelligence before letting her in. By this point, though, he had to admit that events had been much more interesting than he could have imagined. Her thin robe left little to the imagination and her hair was still partially wet, making it much less bushy than it had been the day before. Overall, she looked quite good, he had thought critically, though she was inordinately pale and a bit too thin. But when she became angry, she looked better, and more importantly, became very amusing. However, his amusement had died as her responses became harsher. Though he knew that she was right in her opinion of him, there was no way for her to have come to her conclusions so quickly, barely having spoken with him before.

Tom was shocked by what he had found in the mere seconds during which he had entered her mind via Legilimency.

He had heard the hiss of Parseltongue and seen a page from a book referring to the supposed myth of the Heir of Slytherin.

"Hermione?" someone called through the door. The portrait swung open. "There you are, did you forget the password?" Louisa asked. Without waiting for an answer, she continued. "Get in here, you're going to be late."

Hermione climbed into the Gryffindor common room without a backward glance. Louisa immediately started firing charms at her.

"We are going to have to hurry. You have to make a good first impression or you'll never get a date by the Halloween ball," she exclaimed. "Don't worry; I'm the best in the school at hair and makeup charms. Now, let's just dry and straighten your hair, maybe add a little curl. Hmmm, what kind of makeup?" she murmured tapping her finger to her chin.

"No makeup. There is no one I care to impress," Hermione stated. "I do not want to be noticed or asked to the Halloween Ball."

Louisa looked shocked.

"I'm sorry, Louisa," Hermione sighed. "I just don't want to deal with this now. I've just arrived and need some time to get used to being here," she apologized.

"It's all right," Louisa said reluctantly. "But if you ever need help, just ask," she added brightly.

Hermione had just enough time to slip on the new robes that the house elves had left for her and catch up with Minerva who was just walking out of the Common Room door.

"So you escaped, I see," Minerva said with a slight grin. "The girls and I made bets on if you would go through the whole process. I'll need to claim my winnings at breakfast."

"You continue to surprise me," said Hermione in wonder.

"You probably thought I was just a goody two shoes, eh?"

"Well, let's just say that you exceeded my expectations," replied Hermione.

"Of course, I always exceed expectations," Minerva joked. Hermione found herself laughing for the first time in months as they walked toward the Great Hall for breakfast.

Hermione's mouth went dry and her breathing rate increased to borderline hyperventilation. She did not want to go in.

"Are you all right, Hermione?" Minerva asked.

"Yes, yes, I'm fine, I just get nervous around a lot of people sometimes," she lied. She consciously slowed her breathing and closed her eyes for a moment, steeling herself for what was coming.

Like the feast the night before, everyone stared at her as she walked in. Soon audible whispering began.

Hermione went pale at seeing the scene of her nightmares again. She looked about frantically, illogically hoping that she might see a familiar face at one of the tables, but instead, her gaze clashed with pale, almost colorless eyes set in the emotionless face of Tom Riddle. Hermione focused on him, and Lord Voldemort's visage seemed to become superimposed over the Head Boy's handsome face. Her hand flicked toward her wand before she tensed her arm, controlling it at the last second. But she couldn't restrain the abject hatred she felt for him from manifesting in her eyes. Suddenly she felt something, as though someone was prodding her memories. She instantly broke eye contact when she realized that Tom was likely trying to use Legilimency.

"Come on, Hermione, you should meet the other Gryffindors, since you missed the feast yesterday."

Hermione looked back at her future Transfiguration professor, calming herself. She became aware of the rustling of whispers around them.

"What are they doing?" whispered Hermione to Minerva. "Is my hair purple, do I have something on my face?" she asked nervously.

"You caused quite a bit of excitement when you fainted last night," replied Minerva matter-of-factly. "Now just sit down here and I'll introduce you to my friends." Hermione immediately sat down, hoping that the catcalls and whispers would soon stop and trying to avoid remembering the last time she had been in the Great Hall.

"This is Henry Potter, Mary Prewett, and our resident Quidditch star, Jason Wood. We are all prefects, but don't worry; we only take points from Slytherins," Minerva said.

"Well, there was that one Ravenclaw last week I think, but other than that…" joked Henry, as he was interrupted by Jason.

"You haven't introduced the new girl yet," he said.

"Oh, sorry everyone, this is Hermione Granger," Minerva said.

"So Hermione Granger, where are you from?" asked Jason.

"Well," said Hermione, thinking quickly, "I'm from London."

"Are your parents magical or Muggles?"

"They were Muggles," Hermione replied.

"Were? What happened to them?" asked Mary compassionately, speaking for the first time since being introduced.

"They were killed in France during the war, they were both doctors," Hermione said, proud of herself for coming up with something so believable in such a short time but melancholy at the memory of her parents. They had actually died shortly before the end of the last school year, the victims of an automobile collision on the way home from the office.

"We're very sorry," said Henry, his face practically shining with earnestness.

Hermione avoided meeting his gaze as she forced herself not to break down upon seeing the glaring familial resemblance between Harry and Henry. "It's all right, it happened several months ago, so I've had time to cope with their deaths," Hermione stated, effectively ending the questions about her past and staring down at her plate.

"So Hermione, do you know what classes you're in yet?" asked Jason, after a moment of awkward silence.

"Yes, NEWT-level Potions, Arithmancy, Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Ancient Runes, Herbology and History of Magic." she replied. "What classes are you taking?" "_Hopefully that will keep them occupied until the end of breakfast, though it is nice to have someone to talk to other than myself_," she admitted silently as they launched into a discussion about their classes and professors. Hermione ate her breakfast ravenously. When her plate was empty, she looked up to see the other students staring at her with their mouths hanging open.

"Blimey," breathed Jason, "I've never seen a girl eat like that."

"Well, I've had to eat my own cooking for the past three months, so this is possibly the best food I can remember," she replied, blushing at their stares.

"You could always take Muggle Studies, even though you're Muggleborn," suggested Minerva. "I've heard that the cooking unit is taught by a real chef."

"I think I'll pass," said Hermione. "I can learn to cook after I graduate, I can't learn Euclid's Applications of Pi as they relate to the Third Fundamental Theorem of Arithmancy."

"Help, my brain, it's exploding," Jason cried in a stentorian voice.

"Finally, someone to copy off of in Arithmancy," commented Henry. "Minerva here is a whiz at Transfiguration, but numbers make her angry, and that is a scarier sight than Grindelwald with rollers in his hair."

"I wouldn't try that if I were you," Hermione warned, irritably recalling Ron's tendencies to "borrow" her homework.

"Never mind, I'm actually not that bad at Arithmancy. Charms are another story," said Henry, backing down from a losing battle.

Just then, the bell rang for the first class to begin.

"We're all off to NEWT-level Potions now," said Minerva, as they picked up their bags. "Oh, it looks like Professor Dumbledore wants to speak with you. Maybe we'll see you in the laboratory in a few minutes."

"Bye," called Hermione to their retreating backs.

Hermione stood up and gathered her things. Sighing, she walked up to her Head of House.

"Miss Granger, I have taken the liberty of assigning Mr. Riddle to show you to your classes today to help you become acquainted with the castle," Dumbledore said.

"I'm sure I can find them on my own," Hermione protested, not looking at the person who had come to stand slightly behind her.

"The castle is very capricious. Even older students occasionally get lost, and it would be impossible for a new student to successfully find all of his or her classes," Dumbledore replied, a hint of warning in his eyes.

Hermione understood the reason behind his order, but she was definitely not pleased.

"Fine. Thank you, professor." Hermione turned around and rushed toward the exit of the Great Hall.

"Hermione," Tom called out in a saccharine voice, "you are going out the wrong doors." She whirled around to face him. "It is shorter to go out the doors on the right if you are going to the potions laboratory," he explained. Hermione walked past him silently. Just before she reached the door, she almost stumbled on an uneven stone. She looked down at the floor, at the stone upon which she had found Harry's ruined wand, covered in his blood. She bit back a whimper when the vision of the feather covered in blood flashed before her eyes.

"We don't have time to stand here looking at the floor," Tom interrupted. "Come on."

Tom was intrigued. This girl had appeared looking like a prisoner of war and seemed to have the mental and emotional scars to go with such an experience. Furthermore, she had knowledge in her mind that was too pertinent to him to allow it to go unexplained. Almost no one knew of Slytherin's particular gift and even fewer of his prophecy of an heir. For those thoughts to be on the surface of her mind just as he peered into it was an impossible coincidence.

Hermione came back to herself and started moving again, pushing through the doors and heading toward the potions room, before she recalled Tom's reason for being there.

"Is this the right way?" she asked quietly, avoiding his eyes.

"Yes." Tom walked ahead of her toward their class.

They arrived in Potions just as Slughorn was finishing his instructions about the potion they were making, Draught of Living Death.

'_At least I've done this one before,'_ she thought, remembering Potions with Slughorn the previous year and how Harry had practically cheated to win the vial of Felix Felicis by using the Half-Blood Prince's textbook. Deciding she had nothing to lose, she incorporated the same techniques that Harry had used so successfully and even added one of her own. She crushed the sopophorous beans, added the clockwise stir and carefully stirred in three doxy eggs, recalling that Fred and George had used them to cause instant fainting for their Skiving Snackboxes, oblivious to the calculating looks she was receiving from the others in the classroom, particularly from Tom and Professor Slughorn. By the end of the double potions class, her potion looked perfect, completely transparent but with dark purple and black sparks rising from it, presumable from the doxy eggs.

"All right everyone, you should be finished now," Slughorn called across the room. With that, he vanished all of the potions except Hermione's and waved goodbye to the class. "Miss Granger, could you please remain after for a minute. I would like to speak with you."

Knowing what was coming, Hermione awkwardly stood in front of her potion.

"I must tell you, Miss Granger, that this is the best Draught of Living Death that I have seen in all my years of teaching. And your modifications were extremely impressive. Why did you decide to add doxy eggs?"

"I saw them used once to cause an instant faint. I reasoned that they would make the draught effective almost immediately after ingestion, rather than within three to five minutes."

"Very well done. I dare say your skill rivals Tom's, maybe even surpasses it. By the way, I'm having a little get-together this evening and I would love for you to come. Tom, were you planning to come tonight?" he called across the room to the Head Boy who was still packing up his things.

"Of course, Professor," said Tom, with an ingratiating smile on his face.

"_No wonder the teachers like him so well_," Hermione thought snidely.

Tom turned abruptly to look at her, as if he was trying to see inside her head.

Hermione utilized the slight skill at Occlumency that she had gained from her reading and Harry's descriptions of his training with Snape, hoping it would be enough, but turned her head away just in case.

Slughorn coughed lightly, breaking up their staring contest. "Tom, my boy, why don't you escort Miss Granger to the party tonight? I'm sure she could use help getting around the castle, right Miss Granger?"

"Well, I think I could find it all right by my-"

"Nonsense, no reason to get lost, needing a little help with directions now and then isn't something to be embarrassed about, why I know for a fact that our current Minister of Magic used to get lost on the Misuse of Magic level every day on his way to his office. Off you go now, don't want you two to miss lunch," he said. "See you tonight at seven-thirty." With that, he was gone.

'_Wonderful, more quality time with snake-boy,'_ she thought with a grimace, before she turned to leave the room. Suddenly, she felt Tom grasp her arm.

"What?" she asked, confronting him.

"I was just wondering why you seem to be in such a rush to escape my presence," he said politely. "Any other girl would be thrilled to have my undivided attention."

"Well obviously I am not. And I don't know what you're talking about. I just want to go to lunch," she replied tensely.

"You know very well what I'm talking about," he asserted, frustrated by her continued obstinacy.

"I am positively famished and though your company is extremely exhilarating, I would rather spend my lunch break with friends. Honestly, I didn't think that the Head Boy would get so worked up over someone besting him in a single potions class," she said sarcastically before she wrenched her arm out of his grip and rushing out of the laboratory.

Tom was fuming. "_How dare she insult me! And her potion was not better than mine. It just surprised Slughorn that there was a Gryffindor with a brain larger than a doxy's_," he thought angrily. "_She'll learn her lesson when we get to Defense Against the Dark Arts,"_ he reasoned as he calmed his features into their usual good-natured yet bored expression.

Hermione had successfully drawn his focus away from anything other than his irritation at being bested in potions. But a moment after she disappeared from sight, his mind returned to the strange event that morning and combined it with the difficulty he had just had using Legilimency on her again. Tom quickly concluded that she knew what he had done and was taking steps to prevent a reoccurrence. Furthermore, she had rather masterfully shifted his focus from it, goading him into anger by insulting his intelligence. Something he would have done, he admitted unwillingly.

Then Tom noticed that she had left without even getting directions to the Great Hall. He smirked, thinking how unlikely it was that she would be able to find the hall without help, something she was unlikely to get since all the students were probably already eating.


	4. The Slug Club

Chapter Four

Disclaimer: I own nothing except the plot line and other miscellaneous things.

"Tom Riddle is an absolute boor," Hermione declared upon sitting down next to Minerva.

"Ooooh, you talked to Tom again? What did I miss?" squealed Louisa from four seats down, loud enough for the entire table and parts of the adjoining ones to hear.

"I'm not sure you could quite consider it talking," she said with a scowl. "It more consisted of him repeatedly accosting and glaring at me," she added, clearly audible over the noticeable calm that had descended on the area. Her voice was carrying considerably well through the room.

Tom entered the Great Hall. He had been looking forward to the new girl's absence but arrived at lunch to find her already there and insulting him to the whole Gryffindor table. He walked with even steps to his customary seat at the Slytherin table.

"What, Tom Riddle glare? I thought that he was the most well-mannered boy in the whole school, to hear most of the teachers talk about him," commented Minerva with sarcasm.

Tom's face was beginning to flush.

"Yeah, even Dumbledore has never taken points because of him, while I've lost at least fifty every year," chimed in Henry. "He never believes me when I say that _Tarantallegra_ is a completely logical form of self-defence," he added with a mock sigh.

"Anyone who play's teacher's pet can do that," Hermione replied scornfully. "I used to lose points all the time, usually for being 'an insufferable know-it-all.'"

His hands clenched, the knuckles whitening.

"Where did you go to school?" asked Jason.

"I went to a Muggle primary school before I turned eleven," she replied truthfully, though she had never lost any points before having Snape at Hogwarts.

"So what did you actually say to Tom Riddle?" asked Louisa, who had been waiting for a chance to bring him up directly.

"I denied that I was avoiding him, said that my potion was better than his, and said that I would rather spend my lunch with friends than in his company, nothing that he hasn't heard before I'm sure," she said with a shrug.

"Oh dear, he wouldn't have liked that at all," said Minerva, laughing with Hermione. Suddenly, Hermione's mashed potatoes exploded covering her face, hair and robes. Her mouth hung open for a moment, then she gestured with her wand, and they disappeared. Now it was everyone else's turn to stare in shock.

"Whoa, you can do nonverbal magic?" asked Jason in awe. "I read a study in the _Science of Magic Journal_ that said that only nineteen percent of all wizards have the ability to do that, even after training."

"You can read?" asked Minerva, feigning amazement.

"Yes, I can read," he retorted, "Ever since third year," prompting laughs from around the table, as people's attention moved to the impending argument between Minerva and Jason, one of the table's favourite lunch entertainments.

Tom Riddle, who had been pleased with his juvenile action, was also shocked. He knew that he was the only student in Hogwarts who could cast nonverbal spells. He resumed glaring at his food, realizing that he had underestimated Hermione in yet another area.

"Who is that girl?" asked Aulus Malfoy, sneering toward Hermione, envious of her obvious ability.

"She's just some Mudblood transfer," said Tom loudly, still glaring resolutely at his plate.

"Figures, none of the pretty ones are ever purebloods," complained Quinton Lestrange.

Though Hermione heard him, she ignored him. She didn't want to have anything to do with future Death Eaters or their lord, regardless of how much they insulted her.

Tom Riddle was concerned. Hermione Granger was much more capable than he had thought. It seemed as though some new strength manifested itself every time he saw her. And she either had an uncanny knack for directions or was inexplicably knowledgeable about Hogwarts in addition to Parseltongue and Salazar Slytherin. With that thought, Tom Riddle grabbed his bag and stalked off to Ancient Runes.

The Runes professor was the Head of Ravenclaw and had no particular love for Tom Riddle. Actually, Marie LeRue had no particular love for anyone except her Ravenclaw prefects. She only tolerated the other students in a way that would have made Severus Snape proud.

"Welcome to Ancient Runes IV. This is the most advanced class that Hogwarts offers in this area, so be prepared to work harder than you ever have before in my classes. Just to make sure that this is the right fit for you, I have prepared a short test of fifty runes that I want you to translate. You have forty-five minutes starting now," Professor LeRue said.

Everyone except Hermione and Tom started scrambling to get their quills out. Sitting one seat apart in the front row, they had already gathered their materials and were ready when the tests floated down to their desks.

'_This is easy_,' they thought simultaneously, before glancing up and giving each other a calculating look. Hermione shrugged and went back to work. Tom finished first in seventeen minutes and twenty-five seconds. Hermione was right behind him, placing her test on the professor's desk eight seconds later. Of course, her handwriting was much better, so one could assume that she spent a little extra time on it.

"You finished very quickly, Mudblood," Tom whispered. "Did you decide to give up?"

"No, I finished the test. Actually, I thought it was quite simple," Hermione retorted quietly.

"Really, how impressive, especially for one of your background."

"I doubt that your background is anything to be particularly proud of either." Hermione was becoming enraged and struggled to keep her voice down.

"Mr. Riddle and Miss Granger, please come up to my desk," said Professor LeRue.

"Now look what you've done," whispered Hermione angrily.

Tom merely smirked.

"After correcting your tests, I am pleased to tell you that you are the first students in my long career that have achieved perfect scores," she said.

"Oh," said Hermione, relief evident in her voice, "I thought you were up-," stopping when Tom kicked her.

"What did you think, Miss Granger?" asked the professor. "What would I have to be upset about?"

"Nothing, Professor," Hermione stuttered.

"Hmm. Now, back to what I originally called you up here for. Since you two already know the majority of the material that we will be covering this term, I have decided that you will do a research project that you will present at the end of term in lieu of an exam."

"What!" they exclaimed in unison.

"A project, is that so hard to understand? You're strengths appear to be quite complimentary. Based on the detail in your translations, Tom, you are extremely skilled in curse runes and Hermione, you are strongest at protection and divination runes. If I were you, I would plan to inscribe an object for your project. I'm giving you free rein and will excuse you from this class one period per week. Don't disappoint me. Now sit down and don't distract the other students from their tests," she dismissed them.

"Divination runes?" Hermione murmured, completely shocked. "What rubbish," she groaned.

Next to her, Tom was planning. The time they would be required to spend together would give him more than enough time to sift through her thoughts and memories to discover what he wanted to know.

The rest of the day passed uneventfully. Dinner was calm; all the students were too busy comparing schedules and classes to bother with fighting. After dinner, Hermione, Minerva, and Louisa went back to the Gryffindor Common Room.

"Hey Hermione, I heard that you've been invited to Slughorn's party tonight," Louisa mentioned.

Hermione looked up from staring at the fire. "Yes, he invited me after class this morning. I'm not sure if I'm going or not."

"Why wouldn't you? It would be a great way to meet people from the other houses. I'm going.

What about you, Minerva?"

"I've never been invited," Minerva replied. "He's never liked me ever since I liquefied his favourite robes second year. And I don't particularly mind missing it. I can't stand most of the people there, especially Slughorn."

"Oh well, we better start getting ready. Want me to help you with your hair again, Hermione? It won't take nearly as long with it already straightened," Louisa offered.

"Why not," Hermione capitulated. "I don't have any schoolwork tonight anyway."

The next hour was a flurry of charms, magical hairspray, and giggles. It was much more bearable than Hermione had expected, but then, she had never had any particularly close female friends, only Harry and Ron.

"There, you're all done. What are you going to wear?" Louisa asked.

"I don't know, how formal is it?" Hermione asked nervously.

"Well, it _is_ the first soiree of the year, so I think it is fairly formal. Everyone wore dress robes last year, though they weren't as nice as the Christmas Ball gowns," Louis replied.

"I don't have anything except the uniform," said Hermione, opening her trunk. "I couldn't bring much with me."

"We are almost the same size," Louisa shrugged, "and between Minnie and me, we ought to be able to transfigure it to whatever you want for the evening." She went over to the pile of robes on her bed and pulled out several.

The robe that Louisa had picked was one Hermione would never have chosen if left to her own devices. It was even more girly than the periwinkle gown she had worn in fourth year. It consisted of a floor-length, strapless satin sheath and a glittery sheer robe to be worn over it.

"I'm not sure that I should wear that, Louisa. It seems too-"

"Nonsense, it will be perfect. Just slip it on. Minerva, can you conjure some shoes to match this gown?"

"Of course, Louisa," Minerva capitulated with a long-suffering sigh. "What do you want?"

Louisa scurried over to give Minerva instructions about the shoes while Hermione struggled into the dress robes. By the time she was finished, Louisa was bringing her new shoes over.

"Could I at least change the colour?" Hermione pleaded. She liked pink all right, but not quite so much at once."

"Fine, just be sure to change it back later," Louisa agreed.

Hermione focused for a moment. The satin and organza became scarlet, shot through with hints of gold.

"Much better,"

"Three inch stilettos? I'll never be able to walk in these!" said Hermione, eyes wide.

"Just put them on, I cast a stabilizing charm on them so you won't fall unless you are clumsier than the Hufflepuff Keeper," ordered Minerva after she changed the colour to match Hermione's dress.

"All done, now I'll just touch up your hair, then I'll be off. Jason was coming to get me early so we could get some ice cream from the kitchen," said Louisa confidentially. She practically skipped out of the dorm down to the common room.

"Well, I better get down to the common room. I wouldn't want my escort to leave without me," Hermione said with a grimace.

"Who's escorting you?" asked Minerva.

"Guess."

"Based on your sour expression, I would say that Slughorn decided to set you up with his prize pupil, Tom Riddle."

"How did you know," scowled Hermione.

"Oh, but Hermione, he's so handsome and smart and mysterious," Minerva trilled in a mocking voice.

"Shut up."

At quarter after seven, there was a knock on the common room door. Hermione went over and stepped through the portrait hole. Both of them stared at each other for a long moment.

'_He looks all right for a snake,' _thought Hermione.

'_At least I won't be embarrassed to be seen with her because of her appearance,' _thought Tom, his polite smile carved in stone.

Tom offered her his arm and they walked silently through the halls. The pair soon arrived at the party, which was being held in an elegant room in the teachers' wing. The chandelier glittered and the hors d'ouvres looked divine. Tom immediately let go of her arm and went to sit rather sullenly in a dark corner, though his eyes never left Hermione's form for long. Within the minute she entered, Hermione was practically being mobbed by half the males in the room, about seven or so, leaving the other girls, with the exception of Louisa, to watch enviously from the edges of the room. It was a new experience for her; she had always been known as the bookworm, not as someone you would ask to dance. Slughorn obviously liked to keep the size and composition of the Slug Club under careful control. After about five minutes of this, Professor Slughorn entered the room.

"Welcome to the first gathering of the Slug Club in this new school year," he announced jovially. "I believe that we have a few new members this year. If you wouldn't mind, why don't you come over here and introduce yourselves with your name, year, and house. They we'll get on with the party."

Four students introduced themselves before Hermione, two Slytherin boys, a Ravenclaw girl, and Jason. Hermione was the last.

"I'm Hermione Granger, a seventh year Gryffindor," she stated, pasting a polite smile on her face, despite the glares she was receiving from all of the girls and Slytherins.

"Now that all the business is finished, let's have some music," cried Slughorn, waving his wand at the ebony grand piano in the corner, which started to play Strauss waltzes instantly.

"Miss Granger, my dear, could you please come over here, I would like to introduce you to a few of the other students in my little club," Slughorn called.

Hermione dutifully went over to the corner where Slughorn sat looking immensely pleased with himself.

"This is Aulus Malfoy, one of the heirs to the famed Malfoy fortune, sure to be a shrewd businessman someday," he said, motioning to a tall Slytherin with long white blond hair.

'_He looks exactly like Draco. If I just call him Malfoy, I'll be fine,' _she thought.

"It's an absolute pleasure to meet you, Hermione," Aulus said smoothly, bowing over her hand. His sincerity was belied by the slight curl of his lip when he straightened.

"This young man is Francis Avery," Slughorn said, indicating a rather peaked-looking boy, "and you've already met Tom Riddle, possibly the best student of my career, though I dare say you'll give him a run for his money," he ended with a wink.

"I plan on it, sir," Hermione said, giving her first genuine smile of the night.

"Hear that Tom? Miss Granger has just thrown down the gauntlet," Slughorn crowed.

Tom stepped out of the corner. He seemed a completely different person. He smiled charmingly at Hermione and replied, "Well, it's a good thing I'm a gentleman, isn't it?"

"Oh my, it seems Tom here has finally taken a shine to one of the fine young ladies of Hogwarts," said Slughorn with a boisterous laugh. "Let's have a waltz for our Head Boy and new student!" The piano, which had paused for a minute immediately began another waltz.

"Go on, have a little fun, Tom. Pair up, I can tell already that we have a great deal of potential in this room. No need to let house quarrels get in the way of a good time."

Tom held out his hand. Hermione placed hers in it reluctantly as their smiles became more forced. They began dancing. Tom was quite good, Hermione realized. "_I probably should have expected that_," she thought. There was no way that Tom Marvolo Riddle would let anyone outdo him at anything.

"There, dancing with me is not as bad as you had expected, is it?" Tom asked with a smile.

"Well, I must admit, I am surprised. I had feared that your dancing would be as lacking as your other social skills. But though your dancing is well enough, I might still prefer the Acromantuli in the Forbidden Forest for company," she retorted sweetly, spinning gracefully under his arm.

"How do you know about the Acromantuli?" he queried lightly. He had already learned that excessive force was not sensible when dealing with Hermione Granger.

Realizing her mistake instantly, "I think I read about it somewhere, that a student had released some into the forest as a joke." "_Hopefully, he'll believe that_," she thought.

"Hmmm," he said, searching her eyes.

"_Legilimency again," _she thought as she shifter her eyes away from him and started thinking about the uses of dragon's blood.

Tom had planned to use Legilimency to determine if she was lying, but even if he when he got through her shields for a moment, he couldn't hear anything other than her recitation of "The Twelve Uses of Dragon's Blood," which she repeated over and over. Frustrated, he left her in the middle of the dance floor without a word at the end of the dance. Hermione didn't lack partners for the rest of the evening. As the party neared its end, Tom decided to dance with her once more. He figured that it would be the most disagreeable thing he could do. As he approached her, the other students in the room decided to find someone else for the final dance.

"Would you care to dance again, Miss Granger?" he asked politely.

Seeing no other option, Hermione grimaced and nodded. They danced in silence for a few minutes.

"Where did you attend school before transferring here?" Tom asked curiously, wondering where she had studied to become so advanced in potions and runes.

Hermione thought quickly. "I had a tutor at home who helped me when I couldn't learn the lessons on my own. My parents didn't want me so far away during the war."

"It's not like _you_ had to worry about Grindelwald," Tom said.

"No, I had to worry about Hitler and the Blitz," Hermione said, recalling her history lessons in Muggle school.

"Then why didn't your parents send you here? It would have been much safer," Tom reasoned.

"I didn't want to come, so I convinced them to let me remain in London," she replied.

"Why did you suddenly decide to come to Hogwarts your seventh year?" he asked.

"Because my parents are dead now," Hermione said flatly, "and I had nowhere else to go."

Tom was surprised, though based on her appearance and reticence, he supposed that he ought to have assumed that something like that had happened to her.

"Glad to see you two are getting along so splendidly," said Slughorn, appearing beside them. "It's starting to get late. You had better get to your common rooms," he announced to the students. "I'm sure you have plans for the weekend. I'll see you all in potions next week. Ta-ta!" he waved. The students gradually filed out of the room toward their respective rooms.

"Do you want me to walk you back to your common room?" asked Tom, noticing Slughorn's appraising stare.

"That's quite all right," said Hermione, wanting to get away and forget their conversation.

"Nonsense," Slughorn interrupted. "What kind of gentleman would Tom be if he didn't walk you home?"

"Fine," Hermione agreed grudgingly. At the portrait hole, Tom bent and kissed her hand.

"Thank you for the very pleasant evening," Tom said. Hermione glared at him.

"You know that Slughorn didn't follow us so stop it," Hermione ordered, making a show of wiping her hand on her robe.

"You might want to reconsider ordering me to do anything," Tom said dangerously. "You might find yourself grossly overmatched."

Before she went to sleep that night, Hermione thought about the evening. "_I can't believe I danced with Lord Voldemort. He is already a murderer and probably has at least one Horcrux. There is no way to change him. But I have to do something." _

Tom was also thinking. "_I can't use Legilimency on her anymore. This could be a problem_," he decided. Something had to be done. Hermione was a puzzle, a spoke thrown in his wheel, and appeared more capable every minute of thwarting his plans, should he allow her the chance. He would not let her get in the way in the future, he determined, before extinguishing the light. As he lay there in darkness, he realised something. There were only seven uses for dragon's blood.


	5. The Duel

Chapter Five

Disclaimer: Not mine, not mine, not mine.

Tom woke up late Saturday morning to laughter coming from the Head's Common Room. He grabbed his robe and walked out of his room. He immediately saw three Ravenclaw girls, one of whom was Gabriella Eldritch, the Head Girl.

"So Tom," said Gabriella, "We heard that you have finally chosen a girlfriend." The two other girls giggled in the background.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he replied in a cold voice.

"That transfer student, what's her name…," she said turning to her compatriots.

"Hermione Granger," said one of them.

"Oh, that Muggleborn. Who came up with this story?" he asked calmly, though he would have rather used the Cruciatus Curse on them.

"I saw you two dancing last night. Then I overheard Malfoy talking about it at breakfast this morning. Since everyone knows that he is one of your friends we believed him," she answered very matter-of-factly.

"Well, he was mistaken. I'll have to ask him about that later today," he said with a steely undertone that even Ronald Weasley would have noticed.

However, Gabriella Eldritch was not Ronald Weasley.

"I don't know why you want to keep it a secret," she said genuinely. "We all think it's terribly romantic, how you found her injured from the battle in France that killed her parents, healed her yourself and carried her to the feast Thursday night." The girls all giggled.

"What did you say?" he asked in a dangerous voice.

"You mean it's not true? We heard it from a very reliable source…," she said, before trailing off at his furious expression.

Tom was silent for a few moments as he tried to calm himself.

Finally, he said, "I don't care who you heard it from, it is most certainly not true. I barely even know who she is. And you had better not be the source of any further gossip about me. You might regret it" he finished coolly, before walking calmly back into his room.

Gabriella's friends laughed nervously, but the Head Girl was silent. She sat frozen on the couch, inordinately frightened by the Head Boy's warning.

Deciding that there was nothing more to be done about the rumours at the moment, Tom dressed and headed up to the library. There was no way that he was going to let the Mudblood start out the year ahead of him, especially when they had to do a project together.

When he arrived, the library was deserted except for Hermione who was sitting in the corner surrounded by books. Appraising her reading choices, Tom realized that she had books on poisons, Dark Magic, magical diseases, and curses. Hermione glanced up, paled, and muttered a spell. When Tom looked down at her books again, he saw only books on the Goblin Wars and _Hogwarts, A History_.

Tom thought about pretending that he hadn't noticed her odd reading choices, but decided against it.

"Planning on killing someone, Granger?" he asked, a look of casual boredom cemented across his features.

"What are you talking about?" she asked, shifting uncomfortably. "I'm just refreshing my memory on the Goblin Wars. It's my weakest area in History of Magic."

"Really. I would have sworn that I saw a copy of Luciferian's _Fatal_ _Delayed-Action Poisons_. Strange choice for reviewing your history, Granger."

"I don't see that it's any of your business what I read. Aren't you supposed to be making sure that your new Slytherins don't kill each other?" she asked angrily.

"Trying to change the subject? I wasn't accusing you of anything. As Head Boy, I'm supposed to look out for the mental as well as physical well-being of all students, not just those in Slytherin," he replied coldly, with no emotional inflection.

"My mental faculties are dandy, Riddle," she retorted. She stuffed her books into her bag, stood up, gave him a glare down her nose, an impressive feat since she was at least six inches shorter than Tom, and stomped off to the Gryffindor Common Room.

Tom walked over to the window and stared dispassionately out over the grounds. "_She is reasonably intelligent, decent-looking, and so much a Gryffindor that it makes me ill. Several of her comments point to her having more knowledge of Hogwarts and of me than she ought to, even if she has read _Hogwarts, A History_ twenty times. Her knowledge of magic is much greater than it should be if she has only been tutored at home. She would not have had access to many of the rare books necessary for her present education," _he thought. "_Plus there are only seven uses for dragon's blood_." He didn't know exactly what information about herself she had fabricated, but he was determined to find out.

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small onyx figurine of a serpent. He set it on the window ledge and pointed his wand at it. The figurine immediately came to life, searching for something to bite. Throughout Hogwarts and Hogsmeade, Slytherin students jumped, grabbing something in their pockets. Tom set out for the Slytherin dungeons.

Ten minutes later, twelve students were sitting silently in a cold dimly-lit room off a long-forgotten passageway in the Slytherin dungeons.

"What is the reason for this meeting, my lord?" asked Aulus Malfoy.

"You have all noticed the transfer student in Gryffindor," Tom said quietly.

"Of course, who hasn't?" answered Lestrange.

"I did not ask for your comments, fool," Tom replied harshly, causing the boy to cower in fright. "The reason I bring the Mudblood up is that she dares to challenge me. She has lied about her past when I have given her no reason to do so. From now on, someone will be watching her constantly, from the time she leaves her common room to when she returns. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, my lord," the group intoned.

"That is all. Take care that you do not leave together. Last year I was forced to Obliviate an overly curious student in our own common room. I do not want to have to take such steps again, or you will pay for it," he warned. He swept from the room, leaving them to trickle out behind him.

After her altercation with Tom, Hermione had a very uneventful weekend. She had no work to do or tests to prepare for. On Monday, however, life became more difficult for her than it had been since the Death Eaters attacked Hogwarts.

Her first class of the day was Defence Against the Dark Arts, taught by Galatea Merrythought.

"Welcome to your first Defence Against the Dark Arts class or the year," Prof. Merrythought said. "Since you are all very experienced from what I recall of your previous years, I have decided to start out with duelling, possibly the most useful thing to study, in my opinion. Oh my, do we have a new student?" she asked rhetorically. "What is your name, dear?" looking down at Hermione.

"I'm Hermione Granger, Professor."

"Do you have experience duelling, Miss Granger?"

"A bit."

"Well, this will be a good way for me to see how advanced you are. All right everyone, pair up,"

she ordered.

Hermione ended up with Andrew Macmillan, a Hufflepuff.

"Now you all know the rules, no permanent or harmful effects, disable your opponent only. For the first round, you will duel at the same time. On the count of three, begin. One…Two…Three!" Merrythought shouted.

Hermione restrained herself from immediately disarming him. She blocked his first spell, misfired a _Stupefy_, barely dodged his next spell, then hit him with a weak _Expelliarmus_ to end the duel.

Across the room, Tom Riddle had beaten his opponent, a Ravenclaw prefect, with a quick _Impedimenta, _after which he simply _Accio_-ed the boy's wand. He then watched Hermione's unimpressive duel and was amazed that she had managed to beat Macmillan, unless she was trying to hide her skill, which was very possible, he thought, based on the sour expression on her face.

"Very good, now who do we have left? Mr. Riddle, no surprise there, Mr. Malfoy, Miss Eldritch, Miss McGonagall, Mr. Wood, and Miss Granger. All right, our two head students, Mr. Malfoy and Miss McGonagall, and Mr. Wood and Miss Granger will be duelling in out next round. Let's have you two go first," the professor said, pointing at Aulus and Minerva.

It was a very short duel. Malfoy's second spell caused Minerva to suffocate as she clawed at her neck. Professor Merrythought cast a quick _Finite Incantatum_ to release her, then angrily said to Malfoy, "Fifteen points from Slytherin and you are disqualified, that was completely uncalled for. Minerva dear, why don't you go to the infirmary and see if something can be done about that bruising. Next, Mr. Wood and Miss Granger."

They took their places. "Good luck, Hermione," Jason said with a grin. "you'll need it," he joked.

"I'm sure," she replied with a laugh, thinking how unlikely it was that she would need any luck whatsoever. They bowed and began. Jason was definitely better than Macmillan, but nothing compared to the Death Eaters Hermione had taken on. Once again, she held back, blocking or avoiding several of his spells before finishing him off with a full body-bind.

"Impressive, Miss Granger, but remember, when you are facing an opponent who is trying to kill you, you won't have that much time to get in a good spell. Now, our last pair. Begin when you're ready," Professor Merrythought ordered.

Gabriella had a fearful look on her face. She was shaking as she stepped onto the platform and avoided even looking at her opponent.

Tom took his time with the Head Girl. First _Tarantallegra, _then a weak _Petrificus Totalus _that wore off in a few seconds. He then chose a few spells that emitted green light like _Avada Kedavra. _Gabriella looked like she was about to pass out from fright. When Tom finally tired of his game, he cast a single _Stupefy._ It was over.

"_I wish it were the Cruciatus,"_ Tom thought.

Tom didn't realise that his show had caught the notice of someone beyond Gabriella. Hermione was more than aware of what he had been doing. She shook herself mentally, pushing away the memories of Voldemort casting spell after spell, demolishing the Order of the Phoenix in the final battle.

"Well, it appears like we only have two students left in the bracket," Merrythought said cheerfully.

Hermione stepped onto the platform at the front of the room. Tom bowed, but Hermione did not, choosing to barely incline her head, remembering what Harry had told her about the duel in the graveyard. Tom's calm expression wavered for a moment, his ire at her insult showing through.

"One, two, THREE!" called the professor.

Tom instantly shot a spell at Hermione, which she easily dodged while casting _Langlock_. Tom immediately responded with a silencing spell, powerful despite his inability to say the incantation. With both of them unable to speak, the room became silent except for the sound of magic spiralling through the air between them.

After several blocked spells, Tom summoned Hermione's wand successfully, leaving her seemingly without defence. Hermione was unperturbed, however, and instead of slowing her, she appeared to begin casting more intensely, the silencing spell having worn off. Hearing the gasps of the students and professor, Tom became furious. Hermione caught sight of his face and felt real fear for the first time since stepping through the portal. This was the face of Lord Voldemort, the face that inspired fear in all who gazed upon it. Tom had the face of a murderer, eyes blazing with an evil grin. She knew that he would have no qualms about killing her given the opportunity. She faltered for an instant, then began casting with renewed determination. This was no longer the irritating Head Boy, this was the man who had killed everyone she had. On reflex, she began casting spells that she would never have dared cast in class before.

"_Glaoim na bean sí," _she cried. An ethereal banshee formed between the two. As she opened her mouth to scream, Tom shouted, "_Díbrím tú_," banishing it quickly, no longer silenced by Langlock.

Hermione used this time to scream _Mēm sāmekh_ at him, encasing him in a pillar of swirling water. The other students watched in shock. They had never heard these spells before, though a few of the Irish students could understand the words. From the pillar, Tom cast a Drought Charm on himself, then began the incantation to a Dark spell that temporarily severed a wizard's connection to magic. If Tom had anything to do with it, it would be more than enough time to disarm Hermione.

"_Skjære mag-_," he started.

"That's quite enough you two," said Professor Merrythought, who had no idea of what was about to happen. Hermione, in shock that Tom would dare to use such a terrible spell on her in clear view of the teacher, sprinted across the platform to grab her wand, which Tom had dropped while in the water pillar.

"Very impressive, both of you. Miss Granger, you are more than prepared to take this class," the professor stated. "All right, that is all that I had planned for today. I will see you on Wednesday. You are dismissed."

Hermione stood for a moment, then ran off to her dormitory. She was so angry with herself for not truly understanding that he was already Lord Voldemort in many critical ways. "_To think I actually danced with him, the evil bastard_," she thought, angry tears forming. She had finally realized that there was only one choice to be made. Tom would never change, so it was up to her to do what needed to be done to ensure the future of the Wizarding World.

'_Harry,' _she thought, _'I promise that I will find a way to fix everything!'_

Tom was also furious, though not at himself. For the first time since coming to Hogwarts, he had not won. Tom Marvolo Riddle always won, a tie was the same as losing to him. He stalked off to his rooms, fuming about the duel. Soon he recovered his control and began planning his course of action. He almost immediately came to a conclusion; he had only two choices. "_I could just kill her, it would be fairly simple_,' he thought venomously, '_but she seems to have useful knowledge and I would much rather watch her suffer."_

The afternoon was empty for most of the seventh years, since their classes only met two or three times per week. Tom soon left his room to act like an ideal Head Boy. Hermione laid on her bed, crying from anger and stress that had built up over the last few days. She finally fell into an exhausted sleep. Minerva woke her up for dinner.

"Hermione, it's time for dinner. I didn't see you at lunch. Are you all right?" she asked with a concerned face.

"Yes, I'm fine, just tired from the stress of moving here and classes."

"I heard about your duel with Tom. Quite intense from what Jason told me. He said that you were very good, casting spells in languages that he had never heard before," she commented as they walked.

"Oh, well, languages are a hobby of mine," Hermione replied, trying to think of a way to change the subject.

Minerva stopped suddenly. "I almost forgot, Dumbledore wanted to speak with you during dinner. He said that you should eat, then go to his office."

"Did he say what he needed to see me about?" Hermione asked uneasily.

"No, nothing at all, just that he wanted to see you," said Minerva as they resumed walking.

Hermione was like an automaton through dinner, barely speaking at all. No one said anything about her silence. They didn't know her well enough yet to realize how unusual it was. After eating, Hermione slipped out the door and went up to Dumbledore's office, unaware that she was being followed.

She arrived in his office and say down in one of the overstuffed chintz chairs. Moments later, Dumbledore walked through the door.

"I'm sure you are wondering why you are here," he said with a kind smile.

Hermione nodded apprehensively.

"There's nothing to worry about, Miss Granger. I am pleased to inform you have been chosen as a prefect."

"But Minerva is the seventh year prefect. I shouldn't replace her!" Hermione said earnestly.

"You are replacing her, but only because she has been made Head Girl. Miss Eldritch's parents just informed the Headmaster this afternoon that she would be transferring to Beauxbatons. Minerva was the obvious choice for the new Head Girl, just as you were the obvious choice for the new seventh year prefect." He looked at Hermione for a moment. "You seem troubled, is there anything that you would like to talk about?"

Hermione was silent for a moment, then cast _Silencio_, just in case someone might be trying to listen to their conversation.

"There are some things that I neglected to tell you Thursday night, sir," she began. "I told you about being trapped here by a Dark Wizard after my friends were killed, but I didn't tell you who the wizard was. He called himself Lord Voldemort. He made it up from the letters of his name." Hermione wrote, "I AM LORD VOLDEMORT" in the air, then rearranged them. "He was once known as Tom Marvolo Riddle. I should have told you right away, but I didn't realize that he was already Lord Voldemort until our duel today," she added ashamedly.

"Don't worry Miss Granger. I'm sure no harm has been done because of your secrecy," he said comfortingly.

"Now I don't know what to do," Hermione said, biting back a sob. "The only thing that I _can_ do is try to prevent him from fully becoming Voldemort, and the only way to do that is to kill him. He is pure evil, a sociopath. I heard him laughing while he killed them. It made him happy!" she said in disbelief.

"While I understand your concern, I cannot condone killing another student. He has not done anything yet worthy of such a punishment," Dumbledore said.

"But he has killed someone, Moaning Myrtle with Slytherin's basilisk! And his own father!" Hermione cried.

"Ah, I suspected as much, but there is no way to prove it. I do not want you to throw your life away attempting to kill him, achieving only a life sentence in Azkaban," he replied firmly. "I would suggest that you try to learn as much about him as you can. Maybe it will help you in the future. Now, why don't you go back to dinner and tell your friends about your and Minerva's promotions. I'm sure that she will be delighted," he said, before opening the door for Hermione.

"Thank you, sir," Hermione said before heading back to the Great Hall. Behind her, the sallow-skinned Lestrange watched from the shadows, waiting until she had disappeared from view to run to the Head Boy's rooms.

Quinton Lestrange snuck through the dark corridors toward Tom Riddle's rooms. When he reached them, he knocked quietly on the door. After a moment, it flew open. He quickly stepped inside and closed the door behind him. Tom was sitting in a high-backed chair facing the glowing fireplace, twirling his wand through his fingers.

"Tell me what you have learned." he said expressionlessly.

"I followed her up to Dumbledore's office," Quinton said, "then listened at the door. Dumbledore told her that she was being made a prefect and that Minerva McGonagall would be the-"

"I already know this," interrupted Tom. "Is this all you have to tell me?" he asked in a dangerously quiet voice.

"N-no, my Lord," the boy stuttered. "The Mudblood cast a spell, _Silencio_, I think, I'm not sure though, that kept me from hearing anything else. But-"

"Hurry up, I hope you have something important to say," Tom said impatiently.

"After the spell wore off, I heard Dumbledore tell her not to attempt to kill 'him,' I couldn't hear who they were talking about specifically, but he is a student here," Lestrange added quickly.

Tom's expression was stone. "Leave me now," he ordered.

"Yes, my Lord," he said and exited the room immediately.

"_I wonder who she could be planning on killing?" _Tom thought curiously_. "I am the only male student that she has even argued with since she arrived. But to speak openly to Dumbledore about it is odd, even for a sickeningly honest Gryffindor. Though Dumbledore doesn't trust me. It is possible that he still suspects that I controlled the basilisk two years ago, but even he wouldn't dare to have me killed inside Hogwarts. Regardless, she wants to kill somebody," _Tom rationalized, remembering her books in the library that morning._ "The only question is why." _ For the second time in the school year, Tom reached into his pocket and activated his serpent messenger.

During this interchange, Hermione was returning to the Great Hall. She was somewhat relieved by telling Dumbledore about Voldemort, but was disturbed by his suggestion.

"_Doesn't he understand how dangerous Voldemort is? He will already be watching me because of the duel. I can't risk spying on him!" _ she thought almost frantically. "_If this is the sort of thing that he always told Harry, I'm not surprised that Harry was angry with him in fifth year_._ Regardless of what Dumbledore says, I will stop Voldemort. Going to Azkaban will be worth it. Though I should look into becoming an Animagus first._" She paused, grimaced into the air at the painful memories, and walked into the Great Hall. Only a few students were still eating. Luckily, Minerva was one of them. Pasting a smile on her face, Hermione sat down beside her.

"You'll never guess what Dumbledore just told me!" she exclaimed, infusing her voice with enthusiasm, albeit somewhat halfheartedly.

"No, I won't, so just tell me," replied Minerva, impatiently.

"You are the new Head Girl!" said Hermione, now genuinely pleased for her new friend.

"You're joking," said Minerva, mouth hanging open.

"No, I'm not, Gabriella transferred to Beauxbatons today."

Minerva shrieked, drawing stares from all of the remaining students in the hall.

"We have to go tell the other Gryffindors, come on," she yelled, practically sprinting out of the hall. Hermione quickly followed, although she tried to have a little decorum.

The Gryffindor seventh-year girls' dormitory was awake until three in the morning celebrating Minerva's promotion.

At midnight, a group of Slytherins could have been found in a dark, chilled room in the dungeons, had anyone been looking for them.

"I have learned something rather interesting about our new Mudblood," Tom stated with an evil smirk. "Apparently, Dumbledore's new lion cub is developing a plot to murder a student here. Obviously, the only choice would be me, based on her actions since her arrival. You are to continue observing her. Just be sure not to be seen by teachers. We wouldn't want to lose the House Cup in my final year. Lastly, you are to disregard all of my actions outside of our meetings from now on. They will serve my purpose best if you do not know my reasons." Tom turned quickly and left the room, disappearing into the opaque darkness.


	6. Tom's True Love

Chapter Seven

Disclaimer: I don't claim anything in the Harry Potter franchise, brand, etc. It all belongs to J.K. Rowling.

* * *

The next day, Minerva, Hermione, and Louisa walked together to Transfiguration class. Hermione was more excited than she had been since arriving.

"I can't believe that I get to have a class with Dumbledore," she said, a sentiment that she had been repeating throughout breakfast.

"Yes, you get a class with Dumbledore, now calm down," Minerva said, faint irritation present in her voice.

"I can't wait!" Hermione was effervescent, having forgotten momentarily about Voldemort.

"I don't know why I agreed to take this class," Louisa moaned. "I'm terrible at transfiguration."

Minerva sighed exasperatedly and continued walking, doggedly ignoring Hermione an Louisa until they reached the classroom. Because it was a high level class, students from all four houses were in it, though they were clearly separated out. The Slytherins sat in back, the Ravenclaws sat in front, and the other two houses sat in the middle on either side of the classroom. Dumbledore entered seconds after the girls sat down in Gryffindor territory.

"Welcome to your seventh-year transfiguration class. I am very pleased that so many students have chosen to continue study in this extremely challenging course. However, at such a high level of education, you should not find it necessary to segregate yourselves by house."

Dumbledore waved his wand, conjuring place cards for all the students.

"Please find your assigned seat," he said politely. Realizing that she had been placed next to Tom Riddle, Hermione glared at Dumbledore openly until he saw her and smiled cheerfully. Frustrated, she went about digging her books, parchment and three freshly-sharpened quills from her bag. Tom's suspicions about being her target were confirmed. '_Dumbledore is even helping her_,' he thought cynically.

"For our first lesson, we will be learning to transfigure dangerous creatures into nearly harmless ones, specifically into frogs, ferrets, or cows, though you may practice other transformations if you choose. Just be sure to warn the rest of us in advance," he said with a chuckle. "This is also useful for incapacitating an enemy when you are woefully outnumbered," he added. "It is very important to remember that it is easiest to transfigure a creature into something similar, either in size or in nature. I have procured five dragonets, two young erumpets, a manticore, and a kelpie," he said as he waved his wand, parting curtains at the end of the room to reveal several cages and a water tank for the kelpie.

"I have seated you with your partner for the term. You will take turns attempting to transfigure the creatures and should switch with another pair when you have been successful. Please pay attention, as I will now demonstrate the correct incantation and technique," he ordered.

"_Mutatio Infractum," _he said clearly. Immediately the kelpie morphed into a rainbow trout. "It is very important to have a clear mental picture of what you hope to achieve, otherwise nothing will happen. You may now begin practicing."

"Let's start with the manticore," Hermione said bossily, walking to the cage.

Hermione glanced at him curiously, then tried the incantation. The manticore changed into a young lion.

"_Finite Incantatum," _she said smugly. Tom stepped forward. Focusing for a moment, he cast the spell. To Hermione's dismay, the manticore reappeared as a tiny lion cub. He smiled at her, no mockery present for the first time, then sauntered off to the cage containing the Peruvian Vipertooth. He immediately recited the incantation, changing the dragon into a pit viper.

Hermione snorted as he returned the dragonet to its original form. '_Why am I not surprised?'_ she thought. Determined to outdo Tom, Hermione took an extra second to decide what to do. Grinning upon her decision, she quickly transfigured the dragonet into a three-inch long, copper gecko. Hermione continued competing with him for the remainder of the class, but he never commented on it or even tried to beat her. Hermione was practically in shock. By the end of class, the unsuccessful students just stood and watched as Minerva, Tom, and Hermione practiced on the creatures.

"Thank you for the wonderful show, ten points to Slytherin and twenty for Gryffindor. Off to lunch now," Dumbledore called before striding through the door, whistling a merry tune all the while.

The three Gryffindor girls were about to walk out the door when Tom said, "Hey Louisa, wait a minute."

"Go on without me, I'll see you at lunch," Louisa said, blushing. Hermione hesitated a moment, then followed Minerva to the Great Hall.

Ten minutes later, a glowing Louisa sat down next to Hermione, Miverva, Mary, Henry, and Jason.

"You'll never believe what just happened," she said dreamily.

"The manticore escaped its cage and tore Tom Riddle's head from his body?" quipped Hermione.

"That's awful," said Louisa in an affronted tone as all the other Gryffindors laughed. "Actually, Tom Riddle asked me to go out with him to Hogsmeade this weekend. I'm so excited. I've been hoping that he would ask me on a date since second year!" she squealed. Hermione was in shock. Tom Riddle had never been romantically involved with anyone, according to what Dumbledore had told Harry. He didn't understand love or even affection for anyone other than himself.

"Why did he ask you?" Hermione blurted out.

"Hunh?" Lousia said, dumbfounded for an instant, before replying. "Maybe he liked me, is that difficult to grasp?" she asked acidly.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean that quite the way it came out," Hermione said, trying to cover her error.

"Of course she doesn't think that you are unlikeable," Jason said. "We all like you. We just don't like Tom Riddle."

"Well, he's never gotten detention or points taken away from his house, which is more than I can say for you, Jason," she said, before grabbing her bag and flouncing off, leaving Jason staring dejectedly at his plate.

"_What is he trying to accomplish?_" wondered Hermione. "_This is very unlike him and never happened before. I guess I'm already changing things." _She sat there staring into space, trying to discern the reason behind Tom's actions. Across the Great Hall, Tom Marvolo Riddle smirked, though it appeared to all the world like a beatific smile. His plan was already working and it had just begun.

After pondering events for a few moments, Hermione decided that she needed to try to appease Louisa. She purposefully walked up to their dormitory, mentally rehearsing what she was going to say. When she entered the room, Louisa said," Don't even try to convince me not to go to Hogsmeade with him."

"That isn't what I was going to say," Hermione lied.

"Fine, what were you going to say?" Louisa asked sulkily.

"I was going to tell you to be careful. It just seems odd that he would ignore everyone in his own house for six years before asking a Gryffindor on a date. You know how they are about house loyalty," Hermione improvised. Her argument was partially successful.

"I'm sorry," said Louisa contritely. "I was just jealous," she admitted. "People were talking about how Tom had a crush on you all weekend after the way you danced at the Slug Club party."

"Believe me," said Hermione with a disbelieving laugh, "there is absolutely nothing between us. If you think that he is sincere, go ahead and date him, but I personally can't stand him."

"I'm sure that he is sincere," Louisa said, her dreamy expression making a reappearance. "I just know it. My tea leaves said that there was great passion in my future." Hermione stared at her for a full minute before shaking her head and going to find Minerva.

An hour later, Hermione was dejected. She couldn't find Minerva, Louisa was infatuated with the darkest wizard of all time, and Jason was acting like a lovesick fool. Things had gone downhill ever since she woke up. Never one to wallow in despair, Hermione decided to do something more productive with her time: searching the library for new books. She had the afternoon free and time passed quickly.

"Hermione, there you are!" Minerva called and motioned excitedly across the library, earning a glare from Madam Ippenbok, Madam Pince's predecessor. "You have to come see my new rooms," she said more quietly, not wanting to bring down the librarian's wrath upon them.

Hermione quickly agreed, placing various books on runes back on the shelves.

"What were you studying for?" Minerva asked curiously. "We haven't even gotten any work in our classes yet."

"Professor LeRue assigned me to create an inscribed object with Riddle because we scored so well on her test," she responded, distaste evident in her face.

"Ugh, condolences to you."

"Thanks," Hermione said dryly.

They soon arrived at the portrait to the Head Students' rooms.

"Pyrrhic victory," said Minerva to the water nymph in the painting, which then swung open.

"Who came up with the password?" Hermione asked.

"Who do you think?" retorted Minerva, "It wasn't me if that helps you at all."

"He must be planning to do something to make you regret becoming Head Girl," Hermione stated. "Something that will make you wish that you had never entered these rooms."

"It wasn't necessarily directed at me," Minerva reminded. "Everyone knows that I am one of your closest friends and that we shared a dorm. I could just as well be directed at you or Louisa."

"Oh…," said Hermione. "_Why didn't I think of that?_" she thought.

They walked into the room. Hermione gasped. There were huge windows looking out over the Forbidden Forest along one wall. The afternoon sunlight shone in, sparkling on motes of dust, though there weren't many. The room was decorated the colors of all the houses, but somehow managed to look tasteful.

"Come see my room," Minerva said excitedly, dragging Hermione through a door on the right side of the common room. This room was decorated in scarlet and gold, with a huge canopied bed across from a balcony. They spent the next ten minutes appreciating the décor. Then Hermione told Minerva about her conversation with Louisa. When she finished, the new Head Girl was in shock.

"She actually believes that she is destined to be with Tom Riddle? The Fates aren't that cruel to anyone. I've barely spoken to him and I know that he is practically a sociopath. What are we going to do?" Minerva asked worriedly.

"I don't think that we can do anything. She would never believe us. All we can do is try to watch Tom and try to find something that will convince her to break up with him," Hermione said gloomily. "Let's go to the Great Hall, dinner will start any moment," she said, deciding not to dwell on the situation. "_Tomorrow is another day_," she thought as they walked through the portrait hole.

Tom had heard the whole conversation in the Head Girl's room from their shared common room. He silently returned to his room, avoiding their detection. He could now progress to the next part of his plan.

The rest of the week passed calmly for everyone. All of Hermione's classes went well. She had not had to meet with Tom for Ancient Runes yet because Professor LeRue was still going through her massive syllabus. The only class that she did not know everything in was Transfiguration. She figured that the Ministry of Magic must have outlawed the topics by the time she attended Hogwarts. Having Dumbledore as a professor was also interesting; one never knew when they might pick of their quill only to discover a bowtruckle, earthworm, or sparkler.

Hermione woke up with a sense of dread on Saturday. "_Today is the first Hogsmeade weekend, and Louisa is going on a date with Tom Riddle,"_ she thought incredulously. She met Minerva at breakfast, ate, and then gathered her cloak and a few galleons and stuffing Harry's Invisibility Cloak in her bag before walking with Minerva to the village. They waited in the post office among the owls, watching surreptitiously through the window for Louisa and Tom to arrive in Hogsmeade. After twenty minutes, Minerva spotted them.

"Look, they're holding hands," she whispered intensely.

"He's smiling," Hermione said in awe, "not smirking." Then she added, "But I'm sure that he is just faking it."

"_She_ definitely isn't," commented Minerva. Deciding that it was necessary, Hermione opened her bag and pulled out the Invisibility Cloak. Minerva was surprised, though she recovered quickly.

"Here, get under this," Hermione told her friend. She draped the cloak over them and walked into the brisk fall breeze.

Tom and Louisa went to Dervish and Bange's first.

"Louisa already broke a scale," Minerva explained to Hermione. The rest of the morning was spent trailing the couple as they went into most of the shops in the village, rarely exiting without having added something to the parcels that Tom was chivalrously carrying. By lunchtime, the girls were more than ready to give up their surveillance. They decided to watch through lunch, then do their own shopping.

"Tom wouldn't dare do anything in the middle of so many students anyway," Minerva said.

They snuck through the door of The Three Broomsticks. Silently making their way through the pub, they crawled under the table next to the booth being shared by Tom and Louisa.

"Today has been so wonderful," sighed Louisa.

"Yes, it's definitely been the most fun I've ever had in Hogsmeade," they heard Tom agree.

They were quiet. Tom sniffed the air, then broke the silence.

"You know, I've have wanted to ask you out for ages," he said.

"Really?" asked Louisa, hanging on his every word. "Why didn't you?"

"Well, I had to make sure that I could trust you. I've never really dated and I didn't want to make a mistake," he replied. "After today, I'm sure that I didn't," he continued, staring into Louisa's eyes.

Louisa reached across the table to take his pale hand. "Don't worry, you haven't," she said, smiling sincerely. They finished their lunch and Tom suggested that they walk back to Hogwarts, offering to tutor her for potions.

Hermione and Minerva sat in shock under the table. After a few moments, Minerva dragged Hermione to the back of the pub, pulled of the cloak, and thrust it into Hermione's bag. Minerva poked her semi-comatose friend. Nothing happened, so she smacked her on the arm.

Hermione yelped. "What did you do that for, I was trying to think," she said irritably.

"Well, you weren't moving," Minerva retorted.

"Let's go back to the castle. I have to think," she said in a distracted voice.

"After we get lunch," Minerva said, setting Hermione down at the same table they had been crouched under. They ate in silence, then trudged back to Hogwarts where they went straight to Minerva's room.

"I don't understand. It's completely out of character for him," Hermione exclaimed pacing back and forth.

"It does seem odd, but maybe we've been wrong about him," Minerva suggested doubtfully.

"No, that's impossible," Hermione scoffed. "He's a sociopath, completely evil and without

emotion.

"How do you know for sure?" Minerva asked. "You just met him Thursday. I can understand that you don't like him, I don't either, but he hasn't done anything to you other than beating you to answer a question in class and getting into a few arguments with you."

"He would have killed me in our duel if there hadn't been witnesses," Hermione stated stubbornly.

"Maybe, but I heard that you were throwing out some pretty dangerous spells yourself. I hate to play devil's advocate, but he probably thinks the same thing," Minerva said.

"_She has no idea how right he would be in thinking that,"_ Hermione thought with a humourless smile.

"What is that look for?" Minerva asked nervously. "You aren't seriously thinking about killing him, are you?"

"Of course not," Hermione lied. "I would like to though," she joked.

Luckily, this distracted Minerva enough for Hermione to quickly change the subject to their study of Unforgivable Curses in D.A.D.A.

Across the school in the potions laboratory, Tom Riddle was attempting to teach Louisa how to make a Babbling Beverage. "_Not that she needs to know," _he thought in irritation, though his supportive smile remained plastered to his face. Louisa kept giggling and putting in the ingredients in the wrong order. Tom wanted to hex her and go up to his room to contemplate his plan's success, but knew that Louisa would tell Hermione and Minerva absolutely everything that he had done or said during the entire day, so he remained. "Whoops," he remarked kindly, "You need to add the alihotsy leaves before the puffapods. We'll try once more, then concede temporary defeat. I have to study for an Ancient Runes project today." He vanished the mess and assembled ingredients for their seventh try of the afternoon. Louisa only took five minutes to make a mistake, thankfully, releasing Tom to his own devices.

"Thank you, Tom," she said, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek. Tom barely restrained himself from paralyzing her. "It helped me a lot. Now I might actually pass potions," she said, giggling as she left to find Hermione to inform her about how wonderful their date was.

"Thank Merlin," Tom exhaled quietly once Louisa was out of earshot.

"What was that, Tom?" asked Horace Slughorn as he came out of his office in the back of the room.

"Nothing, sir," Tom replied respectfully.

"I have heard from several students that you are courting that Louisa Brown," he said, turning a slightly disapproving eye on the door that she had left through. "I'm sure she's nice enough, very rich from what I understand," he said knowingly, "but a far cry from Miss Granger. Now if I were twenty years younger," he said fondly, thinking of his second favorite student, "I would snap her up. Intelligence cannot be overrated, my boy," patting Tom's shoulder paternally.

"Well, she seems to have a great dislike for me, Professor," Tom said ingenuously. "I have no idea why," he added in a rare statement of truth.

"I'll see what I can do, Tom. She probably has heard things from students jealous of your abilities," Slughorn reasoned.

"Professor, though I wouldn't mind becoming friends with Hermione," he lied, "I do have genuine feelings for Louisa. I don't want to mislead Hermione."

"Don't worry about a thing, Tom. What's a little favor for my favorite student," he said with a wink, before heading back into his office.

Tom walked to his rooms, whistling the tune that Dumbledore had whistled in Transfiguration earlier in the week. Upon entering the silent common room, he stopped and let out the smirk and malicious laugh that he had been holding in since lunch in the Three Broomsticks. He had caught a whiff of Hermione's scent, freesia and rain, informing him of her presence almost immediately after sitting down. It was nothing to manipulate the conversation for her benefit. Louisa sometimes made Benjamin Goyle look shrewd, something Tom had never dreamed of seeing. He laughed again, eagerly imagining her reaction to Louisa's account of their date.

It did not disappoint him. Louisa sat with Hermione, Minerva, Mary, Jason, and Henry at dinner that evening.

"Tom was such a gentleman. He carried all of my parcels and held my cloak while we were inside. He paid for lunch, of course, then tutored me for potions next week. He helped me try the Babbling Beverage seven times before he had to go study Ancient Runes. He was so nice, helping me find the ingredients in the cupboard and cleaning up afterward," she twittered. Hermione began to look faintly ill. Across the room, Tom smirked. Reaching into his bag for a piece of parchment, he quickly wrote a note. Waving his wand over it, it folded into a butterfly and flew over to land on Louisa's shoulder.

Louisa opened it. "'Would you like to sit with me?'" she read. "Of course," she said loudly before scampering over to the Slytherin table. Everyone in the Great Hall looked on in shock. The Slytherins glared at her as she walked over, but a warning glance from Tom changed their expressions to polite smiles.

Angry that Louisa would be so easily duped, Hermione leaned over to Minerva. "Let's go to the library," she whispered angrily, before standing and stomping out the doors. Minerva followed moments later, looking over her shoulder at Louisa's smiling face.

Once in the library, Hermione took her copy of _Hogwarts, A History_ out of her bag and quickly grabbed several other books from the shelves.

"You wanted to know why I don't believe that Tom is serious about Louisa and why I think that he is an evil git," Hermione stated. "Read this paragraph," she said, pointing to a well-read page in the appendix of _Hogwarts, A History_.

"I've read this before, it's about Slytherin's descendents, the House of Gaunt. I don't see what-" Minerva said.

Hermione interrupted. "Look at this name."

"Marvolo Gaunt, isn't that Tom's middle name?" she asked.

"Yes."

"That doesn't prove anything except that he has an ancient bloodline," Minerva protested.

"Being Slytherin doesn't make you evil."

"Killing people does," Hermione said as she leafed through another book before handing it to Minerva.

"This is about Parseltongues. 'Salazar Slytherin was the most well-known Parseltongue. It is believed that this ability is passed down to all male descendents,'" she read. "Why are you having me read this?" she asked.

"Here, this is the last one," Hermione said, thrusting another book in front of her.

"Basilisks, I don't…" Minerva paused as she read the paragraph. "'Basilisks can only be controlled by a wizard with the ability to speak Parseltongue. The gaze of the basilisk will kill any mortal being. The victim will be found with their eyes open, a look of terror on their face.' That's what Myrtle…"

"Exactly. Tom Riddle killed Myrtle with his pet from the Chamber of Secrets. Now do you believe me that he is not to be trusted?" Hermione asked pointedly.

"Yes," Minerva replied, though she was still stunned.

"I have more to tell you, but we should go up to the dormitory. Louisa probably won't be there and your room is too close to Riddle's," Hermione decided. She quickly put the books away and walked briskly out of the library, Minerva following close behind her.

Behind the shelves hidden in shadow, Quinton Lestrange sat even more stunned than Minerva had been. After a few minutes, he stood from his hiding place and sprinted out of the library. He found Tom in the Great Hall, still sitting with Louisa.

Gasping for breath, he said, "My lo-, umm, look, didn't you say that you were going to help me with Defense Against the Dark Arts, tonight, Tom? You know, about Aucep's Six Strategies for Successful Infiltration?" he said, praying that Tom would realize that he had something important to tell him.

He needn't have worried. Tom immediately caught on.

"Oh, sorry Lestrange, I lost track of time. Here, Louisa," he said, conjuring a bouquet of mock orange blossoms, geraniums, and white roses and handing them to her, walking out quickly before she could squeal at him again. Louisa didn't notice when the white roses withered ten minutes later.

Lestrange practically had to run to keep up with Tom's long, purposeful strides. They soon arrived at his rooms. Tom opened the door and walked through, Lestrange scurried in, the door hitting him as it closed, making him yelp and earning him a glare.

Tom sat down in a green velvet chair. "This had better be important. I wouldn't want my girlfriend to think that I didn't put her first in my life," he said with a sneer.

"No, my lord," Lestrange said, dreading Tom's reaction to his news.

"Well, get on with it," Tom ordered, annoyed at his hesitation.

"I followed the Mudblood and her friend to the library, where I hid behind some bookshelves. I could see them through a gap in the books. Granger pulled out several and her own copy of _Hogwarts, A History_. She said, 'You wanted to know why I don't believe that Tom is serious about Louisa and why I think that he is an evil git,'" Lestrange repeated verbatim, perhaps unwisely, as Tom tensed and his glare intensified.

"She then had Minerva read parts of them. The first was about Slytherin and the House of Gaunt. The second was about Parseltongue. The third was about basilisks, how they kill things and all that. I couldn't hear everything because they were quieter and facing the opposite direction, but I think Hermione mentioned Myrtle," he said fearfully.

"Is there any chance that they noticed you?" Tom asked quietly.

"No, my lord, I was silent the whole time and couldn't be seen at all because of the shadows. It is impossible that they knew I was there."

"You have done well to tell me this, Lestrange. It's nice to know that not all of my servants are complete dolts. Now, recite Aucep's strategies," he ordered.

Lestrange was silent.

"If you make things up, you need to be prepared to support them. You had better get to work on those. I wouldn't put it past my girlfriend to ask you about them," Tom said mockingly.

"Also, I would like for you discover how she knows about Myrtle's death. Almost no one knows how and where she was found, but Hogwarts' newest transfer student knows after only being here a week."

"Yes, my lord," Quinton said before hurrying out of the room.

"_So_," Tom thought, "_she knows about my ancestors, that I can speak Parseltongue, and that I caused Myrtle's death, though she wasn't actually my target._ _I wonder what else she knows. At least this proves that my suspicions were correct and that my 'relationship' with that twit will be worth having to listen to her," _Tom grimaced. A few minutes later, he heard the portrait open and slam shut. Walking out into the common area, he saw Minerva. She started, then quickly walked into her room. Sitting down in front of the fireplace, he waited for ten minutes. Going over to her door, he knocked once, then went in. Minerva yelped and hurriedly slid a small book into a drawer of her desk.

"What are you doing?" she confronted him.

"Sorry if I interrupted something, Minerva. I haven't had a chance to ask you this week how your new duties as Head Girl have been going. I wanted to make sure that no one was giving you any difficulties on your rounds," he said politely.

"No problems, now could you please leave. I'm in the middle of something," she said rudely.

"Of course." Tom walked out, smirking to himself. He had seen Minerva's name in gold across the leather-covered book. It was almost certainly a diary or journal. "_I shall have to get hold of that_" he thought. "_It would be most interesting to see what she has written about Hermione in it_."

Tom did not get a chance to discover exactly what was contained in Minerva's journal for several weeks. Between sitting, talking, eating, and walking with Louisa, he barely had time to study, let alone do extracurricular activities. Of course, he didn't need to study anyway. He barely saw Hermione at all outside of class. She had not even tried to set up a time to work on their Ancient Runes project, which surprised him, though she was easy to find, constantly reading _Hogwarts, A History_ in the library. Tom suspected that she had charmed her books to avoid any uncomfortable questions about her reading choices. She was definitely trying to avoid him he decided. Minerva was not quite so transparent, but she still watched him closely whenever they were in the same room.

Not willing to risk his scheme failing, Tom continued to wait for the ideal moment.

* * *

AN: Just for your information, the flowers that Tom gave Louisa mean respectively deceit, stupidity and folly, and "you made no impression."


	7. The Slytherin Wizard's Chess

Chapter Seven - Wizard's Chess

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and I am not making money from this work.

A week and a half before Halloween, Tom got his chance. Minerva had got the measles, a very rare occurrence in the Wizarding World. Though the nurse shorten the duration of the illness, Minerva had to stay overnight for observation. Tom walked into Minerva's room free of care. She had taken ill so suddenly that she hadn't had time to put wards around her room. He stood looking around her room for a moment before walking over to her bed and lifting up the mattress. The diary lay underneath it. Tom smiled. Minerva had such confidence in her wards that she barely bothered to hide her diary. He created a copy and placed the original into its hiding place. Arranging everything as it had been, he walked back into his room.

The first page he opened to shocked him.

…_Hermione has convinced me about Tom. After telling me about his heritage and the basilisk, she told me that he would become a powerful dark wizard and that he has already begun gathering followers called Death Eaters. She said that he calls himself Lord Voldemort and that he killed his own father between his fourth and fifth years! She said that his mother had bewitched his father with a love potion and put him in a Muggle orphanage when he was a baby shortly before she died. No wonder he has no emotion for anyone. Hermione wouldn't tell me how she knows all of this. She is terrible at divination. Even if it isn't all true, I decided that we should watch out for Louisa, just in case he tries something…_

The rest of the diary contained information about nearly every time he had spoken with Louisa or gone anywhere with her. Tom was surprised: he hadn't even noticed anyone during many of the interludes contained within it, though Hermione's scent had given her away at least a few times since the first Hogsmeade visit. Tom's grudging respect soon turned to cold fury. He transfigured several of his books into miniature Hermione Grangers and _Avada Kedavra_-ed them. Calming down after a few moments, he decided that he would need to put the next phase of his plan into action sooner than he had anticipated.

"_And hopefully, the Mudblood will visit the Mudblood ghost soon. That might put a twist in her theory about the basilisk,"_ he thought shrewdly. Tom had visited the ghost shortly after her death, just in case anyone, like Dumbledore, tried to convince her that it had been his fault. Myrtle had believed him without a moment's doubt. She was convinced that he was the nicest boy in the Empire.

In the weeks following her conversation with Minerva in the library, Hermione and Minerva had watched Tom almost constantly. Hermione was baffled by what she saw. He had not met with the Death Eaters or even gone into any suspicious areas, though he had gone into the better-known Room of Requirement once. He had been polite to her, even apologizing when he bumped into her in the corridors. Most disturbing to Hermione was his relationship with Louisa. He had been a model boyfriend, always carrying her books and escorting her to classes. He had even allowed her to continue sitting at the Slytherin table, something that happened more often than not as the weeks passed. On the same day that Tom found Minerva's diary, Hermione decided that she needed to remind herself of Tom's evil nature. She walked to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom for the first time that year.

As Hermione walked through the door, Myrtle immediately appeared.

"Come to throw things through Moaning Myrtle?" the ghost wailed. "I thought that you had all gotten tired of that game," she said. "Oh, you're a new one," Myrtle noticed, pausing her tirade for a moment.

"Yes, my name is Hermione Granger. I heard about you and decided that I wanted to meet you," Hermione said politely. Inwardly, she thought, "_I had forgotten how irritating she can be_."

"You wanted to meet me, poor Moaning Myrtle?" the ghost asked incredulously.

"Yes, but I actually had some questions too."

"Oh, all right, it's not like I have anything better to do," said Myrtle, smiling, her mood changing abruptly.

"I wanted to know if anyone has come in here regularly since you died," Hermione said cautiously.

"Well, the first year some girls did to use the bathroom, but they stopped after a while," Myrtle giggled.

"Have any boys come in here since you died?" Hermione asked.

"Well, a few did right after to see the new ghost, but other than them, no, except…"

"Except who?" Hermione asked impatiently.

"He said that I shouldn't tell anyone, but since you seem so nice, I'll tell you anyway," Myrtle replied. "Tom Riddle has been in here several times since I died. He was the only person before you that ever came here to talk to me instead of to laugh."

"What did he say?" Hermione asked.

"He said that he was sorry that I died, that he was sure that whoever opened the Chamber of Secrets never meant to kill me. He also told me that if I needed anything, he would do his best to get it for me. Of course, I told him I didn't need anything, what could I possibly need?" she asked rhetorically.

By the end of the conversation, Hermione was starting to doubt her own conclusions about Tom. Other than the duel and a few arguments, he hadn't done anything that seemed the least bit suspicious. She quickly made excuses to Myrtle and went to see Minerva in the hospital wing.

After reading Minerva's diary, Tom decided to go see Myrtle. Though he doubted it, Hermione might have pieced together clues from Myrtle's almost nonsensical narrative that implicated him, though the ghost herself didn't have any idea of his role in her death. When he was almost to the bathroom, he saw Hermione walking down the corridor deep in thought. Almost grinning with delight, he stepped into an unused classroom and waited until her footsteps faded into the distance. Tom entered the bathroom.

"Myrtle," he called, "are you in here?"

"My second visitor today," Myrtle said gleefully, emerging from a stall.

"Who was here before me?" Tom asked, acting curious.

"A new girl," the ghost replied. "She wanted to know if anyone comes to visit me. I know that you said not to tell anyone, but I told her that you came here sometimes and talked to me. She seemed shocked when I told her how nice you have been to me since I died."

Extremely pleased with the ghost's news, Tom left just as quickly as Hermione had minutes before, making polite excuses about schoolwork. He was now ready to begin his strategic move.

Hermione walked into the hospital wing. Minerva was the only student there, except for Jason Wood, who had gotten hit by a Bludger in the first Quidditch match of the year. He had moaned miserably about it, though he had still caught the Snitch. Dragging a chair to Minerva's bed, Hermione planned what she was going to say. Minerva woke up minutes later.

"Hi, Hermione," she said in a scratchy voice. "Thanks for coming to see me."

"It was no problem, there's no reason for me to sit down at dinner by myself now that Henry and Mary are dating," Hermione replied with a smile. "But I actually have a less noble reason for coming. It's about Tom and Louisa."

"What did you say?" asked Jason from the next bed. "I admit that I was eavesdropping," he said when the two girls glared at him. Sighing, he continued. "I'm sure you've realized by now that I like Louisa as more than just a friend, so what you have to tell Minerva matters to me too."

Hermione and Minerva exchanged glances. Minerva nodded slightly, giving Hermione the encouragement to also tell Jason her news.

"This probably won't make you feel better," she warned Jason.

"I probably couldn't feel worse about it," he joked feebly in response.

"Well, Minerva and I didn't believe that Tom was serious about her. We thought that he was just using her, though we didn't have any idea why," Hermione explained.

"And now you do?" Jason questioned hopefully.

"No, that's actually what I was coming to tell Minerva. I haven't been able to find anything to suggest that he is lying about his feelings. He is the best boyfriend I have ever seen. He helps her with schoolwork that he could do in his sleep, he carries her things, never argues with her. Now, the evidence I had about his evil nature is gone, no, I won't tell you what it was," she said, as Jason opened his mouth. He snapped it shut. "I need to talk to Minerva now, privately," Hermione said, casting _Silencio_.

"I went to see Moaning Myrtle today," she began. "I wanted to know if Tom had been there since she died. He has been, but not for the reason that I thought. She said that Tom comes and talks to her and that he came and said that he was sorry about her death and was sure that no one had meant to kill her almost immediately after she died," Hermione said, astonished at the turn of events. "There is no way that he could have known that I would be asking questions about him over two years later, so he must have been sincere."

"Do you think that we were wrong about his feelings for Louisa?" Minerva croaked.

"I don't want to think so, but we might have been. I still think that he is a horrible person, but maybe he really does care about Louisa," Hermione replied. "I have no idea what to do now," she said miserably.

"Maybe we should give him the benefit of the doubt," Minerva suggested.

"That's all I can think of," Hermione agreed, "though I wish that we could get her to date Jason instead. I personally think that they are much better suited for each other."

"I do too, but there's no way that you could get Louisa to believe it," griped Minerva.

Realizing that Minerva was about to enter a particularly snarky mood, Hermione left as soon as she could. She was more confused that she had been since entering 1944. She reacted in her usual way: going to the library to study.

During the week and a half leading up to the Halloween Ball, Tom and Louisa were more openly romantic than any couple in the school. They were constantly together, holding hands, studying from the same book, eating all their meals together. It was enough to make even the most hormonal fifth-year Hufflepuff want to vomit. Tom, however, was planning the beginning of the end.

On the Saturday before Halloween, Aulus Malfoy approached Jason Wood after the Gryffindor Quidditch practice.

"I have something that I need to tell you," Malfoy said urgently. "Meet me in the library after dinner."

Though Jason didn't particularly like Malfoy, he did respect his intelligence and skill on the pitch and believed him to be an honorable sort, especially for a Slytherin. Immediately after dinner, he went up to the library. He was relieved to see it deserted. In the past few weeks, it had been Tom and Louisa's favorite haunt when they were supposedly studying.

"Over here," Malfoy called from between the stacks. Jason made his way over.

"What did you need to talk to me about?" Jason asked curiously.

"I wanted to talk to you about Tom and Louisa." Seeing Jason's irritation, he continued quickly.

"Many of us in Slytherin don't like it anymore than you do. We think that Tom should stick to his own house. Rumors have been going around that Louisa is actually dating Tom to make you jealous. She told Petunia McDonnell that she thought you were even cuter than Tom," he said, making a face. "I think that most of the school would be happier if Louisa was with you instead of Tom. Several of us have taken the liberty of coming up with a plan, since we figured that you would be too honorable to do anything about it by yourself," he added with a grin.

"Go on," Jason said, intrigued by the conversation.

"I thought that you would see it our way," Aulus said. "The All Hallow's Eve Masquerade is Tuesday night. Louisa is going with Tom. They will be dressing as Apollo and a dryad. I was with Tom when he chose his costume and mask so it was simple for me to go back and get identical ones. You will need to get Louisa onto the balcony with you before the unmasking. She should be caught up in the romance of the evening enough to allow you to kiss her after you take off your mask. At this point, we will lead Tom out. He will be distraught by her betrayal and will certainly break off all connection with her. Everyone will get what they want. And don't worry about him retaliating. I will tell him that she was leading him on and using him to make you jealous. He has known me since first year, so there is no way that he would take Louisa's word over mine," he finished.

"If Louisa really cares about Tom, I don't want to hurt her," Jason protested.

"You would be protecting her," Aulus cajoled. "Not all Slytherins are as reluctant to take action as I am. There have been rumours of a … forced breakup, should Louisa not relinquish her grip on Tom. Perhaps Louisa will not be happy immediately, but in the long run, she will be much better off."

"I suppose," Jason agreed doubtfully.

"Don't worry about it. And all you have to do to thank me is invite me to your and Louisa's wedding."

"I'm not sure if that will ever happen, regardless of whether she breaks up with Tom."

"Of course it will. I'll get that costume to you tomorrow," Malfoy said as Jason walked away.

Later that night, he went up to the Head dormitory..

"It is done, my lord. The fool believed every word that I said. You need only to disappear a few minutes before the unmasking and he will take care of the rest."

"Very good, Aulus. You are a very valuable acquaintance," Tom said coldly from the chair facing the fireplace. Aulus went to the Slytherin dungeon without another word.

The next day, Hermione and Minerva went to Hogsmeade. For the first time all year, they were not there to stalk Tom and Louisa. They had put off getting their costumes for the Masquerade until the last possible day. Neither had any idea what they wanted to go as. They went straight to Gladrags Wizardwear. Upon entering, they looked around them in awe. There were costumes of every sort, from princess to troll to Muggle, which consisted of olive green jodhpurs, a purple poncho and bright red knee socks.

"Let's split up and meet back at the entrance in twenty-five minutes," Hermione suggested.

"Okay," said Minerva, already wandering off into the racks.

Hermione found nothing for twenty-three and a half minutes. Then she spotted it. The costume was only a wide tube of white linen with an additional rectangular piece of cloth. It was the only one that held any appeal for her. _"I will go as some Greek goddess_," she thought blandly. She went and paid for it, arriving at the entrance on schedule. Minerva was already there, checking her watch in irritation.

"What did you choose?" Hermione asked curiously.

"I decided to go as Minerva," she replied shrugging, showing Hermione the sword and armor in her bag. "What about you?"

"I'm going as a Greek goddess, I haven't decided which," Hermione said.

They decided to stop in the small bookstore before heading back. Hermione spotted a book of fairy tales that was the same as the one she had left at home with her parents. It had been from an antique bookstore in London, with a note in the corner wishing Nora a Merry Christmas. She picked it up and looked at it. Astonishingly, the same note was inside the front cover.

"Minerva," she said, "this used to be my book!"

"That's impossible, miss," the owner commented from the counter. "I've had that book in stock for more years than you've been alive. You must have just had another copy of it."

Hermione flushed and agreed, catching herself before retorting, and took the book up to the counter to pay. Leafing through it on the walk back, she came across the story of Snow White. "_Hmm," _she thought, "_Maybe I should make a magic mirror for Professor LeRue's project," _before scurrying to catch up with Minerva.

As Head Girl, Minerva was in charge of decorations in the Great Hall. She conscripted Hermione, along with several other prefects, to help her, so the rest of the weekend was filled with extra work, taking hours even with the use of magic. By Monday, the decorations were finished, though no one had seen them complete except Hermione and Minerva. They had convinced Dumbledore to make them invisible until the Masquerade Tuesday night.

Hermione spent all of her free time on Monday planning her project for Ancient Runes, silently fuming at Tom for neglecting their work as he courted Louisa. In class, she showed Professor LeRue her draft of the mirror. LeRue immediately gave her approval.

"_If Tom doesn't like my idea, he can do it on his own," _she thought triumphantly. _"If he can spare a moment from Louisa." _Hermione still didn't know what to make of their relationship.

Exhausted from her busy weekend, the difficult work on her project, and listening to Louisa prattle about Tom constantly, Hermione fell into a deep sleep. Across the school, Tom Riddle was also going to bed, though in a vastly different mood. He was positively manic about the end of his relationship with Louisa and was completely assured of his plan's success. He could hardly wait for the ball. "_T__hough for a much_ _different reason than Louisa_," he thought with an evil smirk, before waving his hand, extinguishing the lights.


	8. The Masquerade

Chapter Eight – The All Hallow's Eve Masquerade

Disclaimer: I own nothing except the original characters and the plot of this story. Hermione, Tom, and all the unoriginal surnames belong to Ms. Rowling.

The whole school was abuzz on Tuesday. Students whispered excitedly in all of their classes, planning pranks, comparing costumes, and generally ignoring and irritating all of the professors.

Except for Hermione.

Hermione was still trying to wrap her mind around the idea that Tom Riddle might possibly have feelings other than condescension, amusement, cold anger, and rage. The more she thought about it, the more likely it seemed as she watched Tom and Louisa together. '_Too bad Ron couldn't have acted like that_,' she thought somewhat bitterly of her ex-boyfriend. Bringing herself back to attention, she realized that Slughorn had begun the next chapter of their text. Quickly flipping through the pages, she devoted herself solely to antidotes to rare poisons for the rest of the morning.

Hermione and Minerva decided to spend the afternoon preparing for the masque. Minerva generously offered Hermione use of her bathroom. They grabbed a light meal from the kitchen then went to get their costumes. As Hermione was gathering her things from the dormitory, Louisa walked in.

"Oh, are you getting ready for the party now? So am I," Louisa said. "Do you want me to help you with your hair and makeup again?"

"Sure," said Hermione, "Minerva and I are getting ready up in her room. There's plenty of space for the three of us."

"Okay, just let me grab my costume and cosmetics, I'll be right up," Louisa said animatedly.

Fifteen minutes later, the three girls were ensconced in Minerva's bedroom, their costumes spread across the bed. Minerva had bathed while Hermione had been in her own dorm. Hermione went next.

"I need to help Minerva. She can't put on the armor after she does her hair, but she can't reach her hair with it on. Why don't you go use the bathroom first?" Louisa had said.

Remembering that Tom also used this bathroom, Hermione carefully locked both doors before disrobing and climbing into the marble tub. Sprinkling her freesia bath salts into the water, she fully relaxed for the first time in days. Then she heard someone trying to open the door and a muffled _Alohamora_. The door opened halfway, giving her a glimpse of dark hair and alabaster skin.

"Stay out," she squawked. "Don't you know that when the door is locked it means that someone is using it?"

Smirking on his side of the door, Tom replied. "Sorry Hermione, I just figured that it would be

open since Minerva is sitting in her armor in the common room."

Hermione felt somewhat guilty about her response. He had apologized politely, after all.

"I…" she paused. "I'll be out in a few minutes. Just wait for me to unlock the door."

"No problem, I wouldn't want to rush you," Tom said politely, relocking the door for her.

'_He's being nice to me. I thought he hated me. Maybe Louisa asked him not to insult me_,' she rationalized. Hermione quickly finished bathing, pulled on her old dressing gown and went into Minerva's room, unlocking the bathroom door.

"I'm finished, Tom," she called through the door.

She turned and saw Minerva. Hermione had never seen her with makeup on, let alone the near theatre makeup that Louisa favored. Coupled with the wild curls that Louisa had teased Minerva's hair into, she was nearly unrecognizable. Her costume consisted of a fitted chain shirt over a Roman style robe. She was holding a silver spear and a shield with the Gryffindor lion on it. Next to her feet sat a Roman helm. By the fierce glare on her face, she was easily recognizable as a war-goddess.

"Oh good," crowed Louisa, "we just finished, doesn't she look divine?" Louisa went to open the bathroom door, but found it locked.

"Tom, dear, could you please hurry up? We girls need more time to get ready than you," she giggled.

"Just a sec, Louisa," they heard him say.

"Well, I guess I had better start getting ready," Hermione said, barely containing her laughter at Minerva's sour expression.

"Don't worry, you look great," Hermione reassured Minerva as she grabbed her own costume. She stripped down to her knickers and pulled the peplos over her head. Once the tube touched the floor, she folded the top over, creating the impression that she was wearing two garments. She tied a golden cord around her waist and conjured two pins with which to secure the top of the tube over her shoulders. She turned to her hair. She didn't want to straighten it, but she didn't want her normal riotous curls either.

"Louisa, can you help me with my hair?" Hermione asked frustrated.

"Sure, just let me get into my costume first." She pulled a flowing emerald dress out of a bag and draped it around herself. She then cast a charm to give her pale skin a slight green tint.

"I'll do my own hair and makeup last," she said. "Yours will probably take longer anyway."

Louisa fixed Hermione's hair on her first try. It immediately fell in shining waves halfway down her back.

"Could you put these in my hair?" Hermione asked, handing Louisa some conjured pomegranate flowers.

"Sure, it will just take a minute," Louisa said. In less than a minute, Hermione's hair was finished.

"Now I'll do your makeup," Louisa said. Hermione was a bit nervous about the amount of powder, cream and other miscellaneous cosmetics that Louisa was putting on her face. A few minutes later, Louisa turned her toward the mirror.

Hermione gasped.

The reflection looked nothing like her. She looked like a completely different person, almost a goddess, she admitted. Her eyelashes were coated with mascara, making them appear unbelievable long and soft and her eyelids and mouth glittered with gold dust. The costume draped across her bust and hips in a flattering yet tasteful way and the cord and pins shone in the waning sunlight.

"You look gorgeous," Louisa squealed. "Who are you?"

"You'll have to guess."

"Some Greek goddess, right?" Louisa asked.

Hermione nodded. "Persephone," she answered, not wanting to wait for Louisa to guess all the Greek deities that she could remember.

"What is Tom's costume?" Hermione asked curiously.

"I'm not telling," Louisa said in a sing-song voice.

Louisa began braiding flowers and oak leaves into her own hair. She finished at seven, just an hour before the masquerade was to begin. Minerva and Hermione had to go down to help organize the musicians, hors d'ouvre, and other final touches to the Great Hall. Hermione had just finished lacing up her gold sandals when Louisa called out.

"Don't you need your masks?" she reminded them.

"Oh, we forgot," Minerva said. She quickly conjured an iron mask that matched her chain mail and covered the top part of her face. Hermione thought for a moment, then conjured a simple golden mask that covered her entire face, yet conformed to its shape and moved like a second skin. Glancing down at her wand, she focused for a moment. A bouquet of grain and pomegranate flowers appeared in her hand, disguising her wand. Looking in the mirror, she was certain that no one would recognize either of them. No one would expect Minerva to take her costume so seriously, and Hermione's hair was calm enough that she could be mistaken for any number of girls. They exited the room and went down to complete the final preparations for the dance.

The hour before the masquerade started was a blur. The musicians were late and one of them was already inebriated with firewhiskey. Someone had enchanted one of the jacks o' lanterns to fly after people with a maniacal laugh. They barely noticed when students began arriving.

By a quarter after eight, nearly all of the students fifth year and over were in the hall, the younger students not being allowed in. Many of the students were easily recognizable, their masks only covering the area around their eyes. A fairly sizable minority were not, having altered their coloring or worn a mask covering their entire face. After a few minutes, a tall Ravenclaw asked Minerva for a dance. Surprisingly, the Head Girl blushed faintly. She appeared resistant, but the boy took her spear and shield and set them down behind the punch table before pulling her out onto the dance floor. She was barefoot, Hermione noticed with bemusement. Hermione gazed across the room. She saw Louisa giggling with a few girls from Hufflepuff and Slytherin. Most of them had worn the smallest masks possible, not wanting to hide all their effort on their makeup.

Tom had barely escaped Louisa's notice when he entered. He was wearing a Greek costume with gold snake embroidery on the edges, representing both Apollo's oracle at Delphi and his own special ability. He had chosen to wear a full white pseudo-porcelain mask, enchanted similarly to Hermione's, to make it easier for Louisa to mistake him for Jason. Aulus had told Jason earlier in the day not to come to the party until a few minutes before the unmasking, making it less likely that anyone would notice two Apollos at the party. Surveying the room, he spotted a girl in an Greek costume. "_Hmm, Demeter or Persephone,"_ he thought, noticing the grain and flowers. Making his way over, he wondered who she was. As he drew closer, he caught the faint scent of freesia, the same smell from the bathroom when Hermione was in the bath. "_Ah," _he thought, "_I should have guessed_." Standing a ways off, he waited for a few more minutes.

Just as Hermione was beginning to get bored watching others dance, a tall Greek god appeared at her side.

"Would you care to dance with me?" a smooth voice said from behind the mask.

"_Why not_," Hermione thought, placing her hand in his. "Who are you supposed to be?" she asked out loud.

"I am Apollo, my lady, god of truth, light, and healing," he replied as he swept her across the dance floor. "The python on my himation should have given it away," he said humorously.

Laughing at the unknown dancer's comment, she quipped, "Pardon me for not inspecting you more carefully before agreeing to dance with you."

"I inspected you," he replied, "I wouldn't have minded."

"And which goddess am I dancing with?" he asked after a moment.

"Persephone, Queen of the Underworld," Hermione answered.

"According to Nonnus, Apollo courted Persephone, but was turned away by Demeter, leaving Persephone to be stolen away from the earth by Hades," he murmured close to her ear.

The dance ended and he disappeared into the crowd, leaving Hermione to wonder who she had just danced with. Hermione didn't see him again until she spotted Louisa dancing with him.

"_I should have known that it was Tom Riddle_," she thought. "_Who else would have quoted a Greek poet?" _

Soon other students began asking her to dance. She was rarely without a partner for the rest of the night. Before she knew it, Dippet was announcing that it was ten minutes until midnight, when the unmasking was set for. A few minutes later, Tom came up to her.

"Have you seen Louisa?" he asked anxiously. "She wanted to have the last dance with me before the unmasking."

"No, Tom, I haven't seen her at all since you were dancing with her earlier," casually letting him know that she knew his identity. His mask smiled in response. "Maybe she went out on to the balcony. It is rather warm in here," she suggested.

"Let's go check," he said, grasping her arm in a firm yet gentle grip. They arrived on the balcony exactly as the clock struck midnight. They were both shocked to see Louisa and Jason, both without masks, kissing.

"What is this?" Tom asked in a frighteningly cold voice.

"Tom," Louisa shrieked, "There are two of you!"

"No, I am Tom, that is Jason, the person you were just kissing," he said quietly as he ripped his mask off. Hermione silently followed suit.

"I thought it was you," Louisa cried, "he looked exactly like you!"

"How could you not know who it was? You took his mask off, for Merlin's sake!" Tom said, anguish evident in his voice.

"I…I…kissed him before I got a good look at him," she tried to explain.

"I can't believe I trusted you," Tom said sadly. "Just go, I don't want to see you again." Jason took Louisa's arm and pulled her back into the ballroom. Hermione stepped up to the balcony railing, laying a comforting hand on his arm.

"I'm sure she didn't mean it," she consoled him, feeling sorry for him. He turned to her with liquid eyes.

"You could recognize me," he said, "How could my own girlfriend mistake someone else for me?" he questioned in a depressed tone.

"I don't know," Hermione replied, "But I'm sure you'll be able to work things out."

"_I'm running out of things to say_," she thought. "_I guess I should have paid attention to Ginny more often_."

"No, we won't," Tom determined. "She was the first person I ever trusted, and she betrayed me after not even two months. I loved her, Hermione. I don't think I'll ever love anyone again. And she left me for that Muggleborn idiot," he said viciously. They stood there silently for a few moments. They heard Dippet announce the final dance of the evening.

"Come on, let's go inside, it's getting cold out here," she said shivering.

"Dance with me," he said forlornly. Deciding that there wasn't anything else she could do, she placed her hand in his for the second and last time of the night. They were silent as they danced, Hermione trying to infuse her eyes with all the empathy she could muster. When the dance was over, Tom walked her to the dormitory.

"Thank you," he whispered, squeezing her hand before turning and disappearing into the dark.

She was greeted by Louisa's wail upon entering.

"I can't believe that I kissed Jason! I did see his face, but I kissed him anyway! Tom will never forgive me. It's impossible to lie to him about anything. He'll know that I kissed Jason on purpose. And he said that I was the only person he had really cared about in his entire life," she wailed, before breaking into a renewed bout of tears.

"I'm sure it will be all right," Hermione said. She really just wanted to go to bed. Consoling one heartbroken lover was enough for one night. She cleaned off her face and slipped into her pajamas. After lying in bed listening to Louisa snort, sob, and moan for half an hour, she cast a silencing spell on her curtains and fell asleep immediately.

After walking Hermione to her dorm, Tom stepped into the nearest bathroom and washed the Crocodile Tears potion out of his eyes. Trademark smirk back in place, he walked to his room with a spring in his step. The night could not have gone any better. Reaching the door to the Heads' dormitory, he carefully schooled his face into that of a heartbroken swain, just in case Minerva was still up. He had seen her stomp from the Great Hall after some Ravenclaw had tried to kiss her while dancing. She had nearly stabbed him with her spear, he remembered with a chuckle. Instead, she had settled for a potent stinging hex. If he looked depressed enough, she might ask him what happened, an ideal outcome, since she wouldn't know about the scene on the balcony. Luck was with him. One would think that he had taken Felix Felicis, though he had never needed it in his life.

Minerva was sitting in her pajamas reading a book about dragons. She looked up when he entered. Seeing his expression, she was silent a moment then asked hesitatingly, "Did something happen at the masque?"

"I went to find Louisa for the unmasking and found her on the balcony kissing Jason."

Minerva was shocked, mouth forming an "O." Tom used it as an opportunity to disappear into his room. He quickly cast a silencing charm on the walls, then burst into evil laughter.


	9. SelfPity

Chapter Nine – Self-Pity

Disclaimer: I do not own anything from Harry Potter. Just this little bit of fanfiction plot.

The day after the masque, everyone watched Tom anxiously. He was silent and brooding, answering only in monosyllables when forced. He seemed the perfect portrait of a heartbroken lover. Aulus Malfoy, the only one who knew the truth behind Louisa's betrayal, had agreed to be _Obliviated_ early Wednesday morning. No one could possibly discover Tom's deceit. Inside, Tom was ecstatic. He had nearly convinced Hermione completely of his generally good nature, overwriting her first impression of him. He had no idea, though, how well his plan had actually worked.

Hermione observed him during potions. She was shocked by how emotionless he seemed, completely different from his light-hearted mood of the last several weeks. She suddenly remembered one of his comments from the night before: "_I don't think I'll ever love anyone again. And she left me for that Muggleborn idiot."_ Hermione gasped out loud. Maybe this was what turned Tom into Lord Voldemort. It would explain everything. "_The first person he ever trusts with his emotions betrays him for a Muggleborn,_" Hermione thought. "_This must be why he hates all Muggleborns. He already didn't like them because of the orphanage. This was the last straw. Dumbledore rather conveniently forgot to mention Louisa to Harry. Of course, he's always put his own spin on events_," she realized, though she didn't want to believe that he had kept something of this magnitude secret. _"But can someone really fall in love so quickly?" _she wondered. She glanced over at Tom. His expression had not changed at all since the beginning of class. It was blank, though a little pain shone out of his eyes. She quickly returned to her notes, trying to decide what to do.

After class, Slughorn called to her.

"Miss Granger, could you stay after a bit to speak with me, please?"

"Of course, Professor," she replied, curious about his intent.

"I'm sure you know all about the little quandary that had befallen Mr. Riddle."

"Yes, I saw it last night," she replied.

"Well, I can't say that I'm sorry that he is no longer with that Brown girl, a bit too silly for him if you ask me, but I don't like to see him this way," he said confidentially.

Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but he held up a silencing finger.

"A few week ago when he was first courting Miss Brown, he told me that he wouldn't mind becoming friends with you, but you seemed to have some kind of dislike for him. As a teacher and as a friend, I would ask you to put this aside. I don't care what your reasons were, and I'm sure Tom won't either. He needs a friend, someone to stand by him that he can confide in. You are one of my best students, one I would trust with my life," he added dramatically. "And though it's too soon to tell, I think that you two could make quite a good couple. I've always thought that comparable intellect was key in a healthy relationship, though a healthy dose of ambition always helps to get things started, and you are the only girl in the school that I could possibly compare with Tom."

"I'll try, Professor," she said politely, as if someone had died.

"That's all I would ask of you, Miss Granger."

Hermione didn't see Tom again until Defense Against the Dark Arts that afternoon.

"Today," Professor Merrythought intoned, "We will be learning the Patronus Charm. It is the only defense a wizard or witch has when they encounter a Dementor. It is very difficult to cast, and I don't expect most of you will be able to produce more than a silvery cloud. However, even this might give you enough time to Apparate to a safer location."

A boy in Ravenclaw raised his hand.

"What we would produce other than a cloud, Professor?" he asked, obviously hoping to gain points for a good question.

"Excellent question, Mr. Madley. Five points to Ravenclaw. A powerful witch or wizard may eventually learn to produce a corporeal Patronus, which takes the form of an animal. There's really no way to predict which animal it will be, though it usually is one that matches your personality. Any other questions?" she asked. "All right, the incantation is _Expecto Patronum_. Now, it is extremely important that you think of the happiest memory that you have while casting this. The Patronus is really just condensed happiness. This is what drives the Dementors away. Give it a try, all of you."

Hermione looked over at Tom. He was still sitting at a back table, not making any move to try the new spell. She walked over to him.

"Hey, Tom. Why aren't you trying out the new charm?" she asked cheerfully, hoping it would spread.

"I'm trying to think of a good memory," he said listlessly.

Hermione paused a second, then replied, "Wasn't arguing with me in the library any fun at all?"

She thought that she almost saw a slight smile form.

"Not that fun."

"What about dancing last night? You seemed to enjoy yourself until…" She trailed off, cursing herself for bringing it up.

"Hmmm, that might work," he said surprising her. "You actually were quite a good dancer." He stood up and cast the charm. On his first try, he produced a shimmering serpent, undulating through the air. Actually, he had been thinking of the masquerade, gloating over how well everything had turned out.

"Your turn," he said, a remnant of his old smirk beginning to form.

"You think you're something special, don't you?" Hermione joked, glad that he was finally doing something other than moping.

"That's because I am," he said, with a snobbish tone, pulling a face more often seen on Narcissa Malfoy.

Hermione ignored him, saying "_Expecto Patronum._" She was not surprised when her otter appeared. She laughed lightly when it started poking Tom's snake, earning her a slightly sour look from him.

Professor Merrythought spotted them.

"What do we have here? Two corporeal Patroni in the first class? Very impressive, ten points each to Gryffindor and Slytherin," she said, inspecting their animals before walking off to help a less than stellar Hufflepuff.

"So, I guess you've done that before," Tom commented.

"I don't think that it's any of your business," Hermione snapped.

"It's alright if you don't want to tell me," he sighed, dismissing his Patronus and returning to his previous depressed mood.

Seeing his abrupt change, Hermione decided that it wouldn't hurt to tell him something.

"I didn't mean to snap at you," she said as an apology, "I just don't like to think about it. Dementors almost killed one of my friends." She smiled sadly, thinking of Harry trying to protect Sirius from the Dementors.

"Oh, sorry," Tom said, "I didn't know."

"Obviously," she replied, uncomfortable with his apparent compassion.

Tom thought for a moment before saying, "I suppose it's good that you remind me that other people have suffered just like I have. It's so easy to wallow in self-pity after you get hurt. Thank you."

Hermione was shocked. The boy who would become Voldemort had thanked her and was demonstrating more interpersonal intelligence than Gandhi. She hurriedly went back to her desk and began to gather up her things. Just as class was dismissed, she heard Tom call her name.

"Hermione, could I talk to you for a sec?" he called.

"Sure," she replied. "_What is it with people asking me to stay after class today?"_ she thought.

In seconds, Tom had caught up to her.

"I was wondering about our Ancient Runes project. I was so busy with Louisa that I neglected my work on it," he said, appearing angry at himself.

"Oh, I've already got a lot of it planned," she said. "Don't worry about it. If you want, I can go get the schematics and show them to you at lunch."

"You better bring them over to my table. I don't think that I can face Louisa yet, if you don't mind."

"That's fine with me; see you in a few minutes." Hermione went up to the dorm to gather up her copious pile of notes and resources. She was about to leave for the Great Hall when Louisa came in.

"Hi, Hermione, how has your day been?" she greeted cheerfully.

"Fine, you seem happy about something."

"Well, I got a chance to talk to Jason this morning after Divination. We were doing crystal ball readings and, you won't believe this, it said that I would realize my true love after enduring great disappointment. That can only mean Jason, right? So I told him about it and he asked me to go with him to Hogsmeade!" she squealed.

"But what about Tom? What are you going to tell him?" Hermione asked incredulously.

"You heard him last night; he doesn't ever want to see me again anyway. Will you tell him about Jason for me? Maybe it will give him some closure," she said ingenuously.

"If I get a chance, I'll try," Hermione said, feeling a sense of foreboding.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," Louisa shrieked. "I have to go meet Jason in the library now, he was going to help me with my Herbology project during lunch!" She left, leaving Hermione staring at the door. Shaking herself mentally, she went down to the Great Hall. She ate quickly at the Gryffindor table, ignoring the gossip about Louisa and Jason, then picked up her overloaded bag and went over to the Slytherin table. There was quite a bit of empty space around Tom. It seemed as though he had scared off his usual companions with his fierce glare.

"Hi Tom," she said as she sat down. "Here are all of my notes on the project. I decided that we ought to make a mirror, though I'm not sure what it should do exactly."

Tom appeared to brighten for a second, but then his face fell again. "Have you heard about Louisa and Jason?" he asked quietly.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Hermione said, dreading the direction the conversation was going.

"According to practically everyone, they are now dating. It only took her one day to forget about me," he said intensely.

"She told me that her crystal ball said that she would realize her true after enduring great disappointment," Hermione quoted. "She thinks that Jason is her one true love," she added with a snort.

"You think having a true love is foolish?" Tom asked. "You're probably right. I thought that she might be my true love, and look where it got me," he laughed humorlessly.

"No, I think that it's possible to have a true love, just not one in particular. And it doesn't even have to be a person," Hermione said somewhat cynically, remembering her triangular relationship with Ron and Quidditch.

"Have you ever really loved anyone?" Tom asked in a disillusioned voice. "If you had, I don't think that you would be quite so cold about the whole thing."

"Do you want to go over these plans or not?" Hermione asked, exasperation in her voice. She instantly regretted it upon seeing Tom's chagrined face. She was trying to make him believe that there were good and pure things in life, not jade him further.

"Sorry," she apologized to him for the second time in as many hours. "There are just a lot of things that I don't like to talk about."

Tom graciously accepted her apology and began going through the stack of notes.

"We should definitely make our own mirror," he suggested. "We will be able to make one with refined silver for a lower cost than we can buy one. Also, we will be able to use runes on the materials themselves to increase the strength of the enchantment." He was beginning to get quite excited.

"What have you thought about as far as what the mirror actually does?" he asked after pouring over her sketches.

"Well, I thought about making it show your true self, you know, change your appearance based on the goodness of your soul," she said. Tom shuddered internally at that suggestion.

"Or," he prodded.

"Or we could make it into a sort of Hand-mirror of Erised," she continued, "to show what a person desires most."

"The only other good idea I had was inscribing it with runes for destiny, fate, et cetera, to make it show a picture of what your future might be. Of course, that would be the hardest one, anything dealing with the future is extremely complicated and we would have to-"

"Let's do that one," Tom said.

"What?" Hermione said, amazed. "But we'll only have a few months left by the time we get the mirror made and it will take a lot of research to learn how to do the inscribing and the reagents are extremely rare-"

"Hermione, if anyone can do this we can, just think how it will help us in our careers if we're successful. If we don't think that we have time after we make the mirror, we can always switch to something else," he cajoled.

"I suppose I can turn our plan in to Professor LeRue tomorrow," Hermione said. She glanced at her watch and started.

"I have to go get my other books," she said, "We only have five minutes before Arithmancy starts." With that, she left Tom sitting at the table.

"_This just keeps getting better and better_," Tom thought as he picked up his bag and started toward Arithmancy. "_She is already starting to tell me about herself and have normal conversations. At this rate, I'll be done with her by Christmas." _He smirked, unseen by anyone, and walked quickly through the halls.

The rest of the week went smoothly. They gave Professor LeRue their proposal and she approved it.

"All I can say is that you two are very ambitious," she had said after perusing the plans. "Good luck."

"Ambitious?" Tom had said to Hermione. "Isn't that a Slytherin trait?"

"Anyone can be ambitious," she had replied. "The rest of us just don't carry it quite as far as you do," punching his arm lightly.

To all who observed them, their rapport was clearly evident. Hermione had convinced herself that she was only being nice to him to prevent him from becoming Lord Voldemort. Tom knew exactly why he was being nice to her.

On Friday, they had Charms together in the afternoon. Professor Flitwick taught it, something that had pleased Hermione greatly. He was a very good teacher, though a bit stricter than he would be in later years. Hermione was often partnered with Tom, since they were always the first students to successfully cast any new charms. This day was no exception. While waiting for the other students to finish their futile attempts, Hermione and Tom sat looking out the window.

Suddenly, Tom spoke. "Do you want to go to Hogsmeade with me tomorrow?"

"Why would I go to Hogsmeade with you?" Hermione blurted, utterly shocked. "_Is Tom Riddle asking me on a date?"_

Tom laughed at her reaction, exactly the one he had hoped for. "Not _with _me. Just to get materials for our mirror. We need to get started on it soon."

"Oh," said Hermione blushing. "All right." A few moments later, she spoke again.

"I didn't think that you were asking me on a date," she clarified.

"Then why were you so surprised?" Tom asked with a smile.

"Because…I didn't know that we could go to Hogsmeade tomorrow," she lied.

Tom smirked and busied himself sharpening his quills. Hermione, remembering his skill at Legilimency, realized that he probably knew she was lying. She flushed again and turned to face out the window.

"Meet me at the gate at ten," she heard him say as she hurried out of the room.

"_I think the Gryffindor Princess has developed a crush on me!" _ Tom thought gleefully, using the nickname that some jealous Slytherin girl had come up with after the Halloween ball. It was too good to be true. "_Rather ironic though, with me being the Heir of Slytherin_."

That night, Tom stayed up until two planning exactly what he was going to do the next day. He was so close to achieving his goal and entering the next phase of his plan. Hermione also lay awake thinking about their date. "_No, it's not a date!" _she chastised herself. "_He's Lord Voldemort and I am going to Hogsmeade with him tomorrow for a school project and for the good of humanity."_ Louisa's incessant chatter about how she and Jason were going to Madam Puddifoot's tea parlor tomorrow didn't help. Hermione fell into a restless sleep after putting a silencing spell on her curtains, something that had become part of her routine since Louisa started dating Tom.

Hermione woke up late the next day. She looked at her clock and gasped. It was seventeen minutes until ten. She threw on her robe, ran to the prefects' baths, spelled her hair dry, and threw on her clothes. She checked the clock again. It was quarter after ten. She rushed out to the common room and threw open the portrait.

"Careful, dear," the Fat Lady cried.

"Good morning," Tom said, when Hermione bumped into him while through the portrait hole. "I didn't see you this morning, so I brought you a few things from breakfast."

"Thanks," Hermione said, ravenously eating the apple and croissant, then vanishing the core. "_Ron never would have done that, neither would Viktor_," she thought. "_Rather pitiful that a future Dark Lord treats me better than my boyfriends ever did."_

They talked about exactly what to make their mirror out of as they walked. Hermione wanted it to be made of silver to inspire peace in the fate seen, while Tom wanted gold to increase the power of the image. They argued about it all the way to the village. When they entered the dusty alchemy shop, they split up to find the materials they wanted. In a corner behind dragon hide, Hermione found a thin sheet of obsidian. "_This would be perfect_," she thought.

"Tom," she shouted, "over here."

In a second, he appeared by her side.

"Let's use this," she said, pointing to the stone sheet. "Obsidian is used for scrying mirrors and meditation. It would be much better than gold or silver, though harder to work with."

"I think it's a good idea," Tom agreed. "If we mounted it with quartz crystal, moonstone, and sapphires it would improve the image."

"That would be too expensive," Hermione said regretfully.

"No it wouldn't be," he responded. "I went to Professor LeRue this morning and she agreed that the school could finance our project up to five hundred galleons. That should be enough to pay for the obsidian and two of every stone."

"That's great," Hermione exclaimed. "Let's start looking for the rest of our materials." Tom carried the obsidian up to the counter while Hermione picked out the stones. They were done purchasing their items in fifteen minutes.

"So," Tom asked her as they exited the store, "what do you want to do the rest of the day?"

"I'm hungry," she said, "let's get lunch before we head back. Dinner is already over at Hogwarts."

They quickly walked to The Three Broomsticks and sat down. They both ordered fish and chips.

"Could I have extra sauce?" Hermione requested when the waiter brought their orders. He quickly summoned some from the kitchen and set it on the table. She began eating. After a few bites, she looked at Tom. He had a faraway look in his eyes.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked.

"The last time I was in here was when Louisa and I came to pick out our Halloween costumes."

"_Oh dear, here we go again_, _and I thought that he was almost over her," _Hermione thought.

"You think I'm being foolish, don't you?" Tom said with a piercing look. "You don't understand what it's like to lose someone who means everything to you, you can't just 'get over it'" he continued, his voice rising.

"I-" she started, but he interrupted her.

"I bet that you've never even had a boyfriend, or else you would know how I feel," he accused.

"I do know how you feel! My parents and all of my friends, including my boyfriend, are dead, killed by a freak accident and _Crucio-_ed to death by dark wizards. I think I know what it's like, get over yourself!" she said angrily, standing up and storming out of the pub.

"_I'm sick of it. He only cares about himself and his hurt feelings. If he turns into Lord Voldemort because of Louisa, I'll just kill him," _she thought furiously. She only got to the edge of the village before Tom ran up beside her and grabbed her arm.

"I'm really sorry, Hermione," he apologized, misery evident in his face. "I didn't mean any of that. I hadn't even been thinking about Louisa today until we sat at the table that she always chose. I was being foolish. You were right, that I need to just get over myself. I didn't even realize that you might have lost someone too." This was an impressive bit of improvisation on Tom's part.

Still incensed, she turned to look at him.

"I really don't want to talk to you right now. If I do, I might hex you. I'll see you in runes on Monday." She left Tom standing in the middle of the path.

Tom had not anticipated her reaction at all. He had expected her to continue her "poor Tom" reaction, not yell at him about his fake grief. However, it might be beneficial, he decided as he began walking back to Hogwarts. Now he could play the caring friend trying to earn forgiveness. He had noticed that she had been getting sick of his mercurial moods anyway. Arriving at the castle, Tom went up to his room to begin planning. Seducing Hermione was going to be more difficult than he had anticipated. He didn't care; Tom loved a challenge.


	10. Hermione's Saviour

Chapter Ten - Hermione's Saviour

Disclaimer: Hermione, Tom, Dumbledore, etc. do not belong to me. They are owned by J.K. Rowling.

Hermione purposefully ignored Tom the rest of the weekend. She never looked at him in the Great Hall and refused to even acknowledge his presence when with Minerva in the Heads' Common Room. Though it irked Tom greatly, he decided that it would be best for him to let her cool off. She ought to be back to normal by Monday, or at least as normal as she had ever been. However, he had not counted on Hermione's remarkable resistance to charm and handsome features. She had barely spoken to him all week. By Wednesday, he realized that her pride would not allow her to forgive him unless he took drastic measures.

These drastic measures were nearly unpalatable to Tom. They began with Tom sitting by her in every class telling her how sorry he was and begging for her to forgive him. This earned him a wandless silencing spell. The next class, he tried writing her notes. He soon found his quill exploding in a ball of flames, which Dumbledore conveniently ignored, much to Tom's disgust. On Thursday, Tom gave her flowers outside of the Great Hall after breakfast. She looked at them for a moment, then threw them at him. He soon discovered that they had been transfigured into poison ivy and nettles, eliciting an angry expletive. Tom was beginning to run out of ideas.

The antics of the couple had been observed with great interest by the rest of the school. Slughorn looked at them knowingly in potions, winking at them at least once every class. Lower form girls immediately began whispering any time Tom or Hermione entered the library or Great Hall. But Hermione still remained oblivious to the conclusion that had been drawn by most of the school until Minerva took it upon herself to inform her Thursday night.

They were sitting on Minerva's bed, talking about the newest issue of _The Alchemist's Magazine_. Hermione had placed a silencing charm on the walls immediately upon entering, so Minerva was not afraid that Tom would overhear what she had to say. She waited for the right moment to present itself; Hermione had a gaze that a medusa would envy which manifested itself whenever Tom was mentioned in the conversation, and though it did not scare Minerva, it did make her distinctly uncomfortable. Finally, Minerva decided that it would be best to just jump in headfirst.

"Hermione, have you heard what people have been saying about you and Tom?" she asked matter-of-factly.

"What, that he's a self-centered prick and I finally got tired of listening to him nursing his wounds?" Hermione replied sarcastically.

"No, that you had a 'lover's spat,' at least, that's what Slughorn said to Professor LeRue at the teacher's table at dinner yesterday," Minerva lied, knowing that Hermione would never dare ask Slughorn about it.

"What?" Hermione shrieked. Minerva winced at her shrill tone. "That's ridiculous!"

"Well, you are acting like it," Minerva said. "They figure that if you didn't like him, you wouldn't care so much about whatever it was that he said. Just like you ignore people who insult you about being Muggleborn." "_Maybe now she'll tell me exactly what he said that made her so angry_," she thought.

"That is the stupidest thing that I have ever heard," Hermione yelled. "I listened to him for days about how much he missed Louisa, even though I _don't_ like him, only to be accused of never having a boyfriend or even caring about someone!"

"_They_ don't know that," Minerva said, pointing in the general direction of the Great Hall. "What are you going to do about this mess?"

"The only thing I can do is treat him normally again," Hermione decided after thinking for a moment.

"I hope that doesn't mean following him around all day and spying on him like we were before," Minerva said edgily.

"There isn't really any reason to," Hermione admitted. "He hasn't done anything that Voldemort would. I've barely even seen him talk to the other Slytherins, let alone order them around. Myrtle said that he was nice to her. He almost seems like the antithesis of a dark wizard. If he is one, then there is no way for us to prove it and we are probably more likely to find out by not posing a threat. If he isn't, then the rest of our final school year will be much less stressful."

Minerva was relieved. "That sounds like a good idea. So are you going to quit giving people the evil eye when they mention Tom now?"

"I suppose I ought to," said Hermione, laughing. "I wouldn't want to scare everyone too badly."

Tom knew very well what the school believed his relationship with Hermione to be and it couldn't have pleased him more. Unfortunately, every day that Hermione refused to speak to him was another day of lost information. Not knowing that Hermione had determined to forgive him, he called the first Death Eater meeting since he had started dating Louisa.

They were all present in the far end of the dungeons by one o'clock. They were very curious about what Tom had to tell them. There had been murmurs of discontent about how he had abandoned the group in the last few months. They would not be disappointed by his instructions.

"My loyal friends," Tom began. "You have done well these past few months. The Mudblood has not suspected us at all. Now you have a new task. Tomorrow, several of you will accost her as she walks to potions. You must take her by surprise, since she is more than capable of defeating any of you if she is allowed time to get to her wand. You must silence her and pull her into the storage room two doors down from the laboratory. Be on your guard, as she is skilled in wandless magic. Blindfold her as a precaution; it will make it more difficult for her to aim her spells. Do not harm her beyond a few bruises and scrapes. I would recommend not using spells at all, since they could easily be recovered using _Priori Incantatum _should you be questioned," he finished.

"My lord," said Lestrange nervously, "who will do this?"

"I will notify you tonight. Those who are bitten by the snake will carry out my orders. The rest of you will report to class as usual. Tomorrow night, I will meet you individually to _Obliviate_ your memories of this meeting. Do well tomorrow and I will be pleased. If you fail, you will be punished harshly," he warned in an emotionless voice.

"Yes, my lord," they bowed. Tom swept out of the room and went up to his room, unseen as usual.

The seventh-year N.E.W.T.-level students were scheduled for potions all morning on Friday. Hermione was running late. The strap to her bag had broken in the hallway. She scrambled about on her knees trying to gather all of her notes and books. She checked her watch; only two minutes before class started. She heard someone approach behind her. A voice whispered, "_Petrificus Totalus._" Hermione couldn't move. A blindfold was placed over her eyes from behind, blocking the view of her assailant. She was dragged into a room along the hallway, she didn't know which one.

"Not so powerful now, are you, little Mudblood?" a sinister voice whispered. "Did you seriously thing that we would accept you in this school?" The owner of the voice slapped her and spit on her face.

"The answer would be 'no'," a second voice said harshly. "Oh look, the Mudblood didn't get to answer first. She's finally learning her place." Someone kicked her in the ribs. She screamed silently in pain.

Hermione felt the petrifying spell begin to wear off. She cautiously felt for her wand among her robes. Luckily, her assailants had forgotten to remove it. "_I'll only have one chance_," she thought, trying to put together a plan. She heard the door open. Hermione began to get scared. Taking three on would be much more difficult.

"_Lumos,_" the new voice said rather loudly. "_That sounds like Tom_," Hermione noticed.

"What are you doing in here? Take off those hoods so I can see who you are!" Tom ordered.

They remained silent. Hermione managed to kick one of them in the leg. They had moved to block her from view of the door when Tom walked in.

The first one yelped.

"What are you hiding?" Tom demanded. "Move aside."

The attackers stood still. Tom drew his wand and waved it. They went sprawling across the small room, allowing Tom to see Hermione. Tom appeared shocked for split-second, then ran up to her. Remembering the others in the room, he quickly turned around. He saw the ends of their robes disappear from the doorway and the door slam shut. He sprinted to the door, but they had locked it from the outside. "_Alohamora_," he tried, but nothing happened.

"Are you all right?" he asked Hermione, sounding genuinely concerned. She pointed to her face, still silenced and blindfolded.

"Oh, right," Tom said as he removed the blindfold. "_Finite Incantatum_."

Hermione sat up slowly, only to whimper and clutch her side.

"Are you hurt?" Tom asked worriedly.

"They kicked my side. It feels like I have a broken rib or two," she replied.

"I'll help you up to the hospital wing. Slughorn won't mind if I miss class," Tom said.

"'Course not, you're his all-time favorite pupil," she tried to joke, wincing as she laughed.

"I think you might have tied me in that respect," Tom admitted. After a few seconds, he spoke again.

"Do you have any idea who attacked you?" he asked, anger in his voice.

"No, they attacked me from behind and put a blindfold on me before I could see them. They whispered the whole time so I couldn't identify them by their voices."

"What did they whisper about?"

"They called me a Mudblood and said that I needed to learn my place," said Hermione resentfully, wiping at the dried saliva on her face. "Like a house elf, I would imagine," she added bitterly.

"Some people are idiots. They won't accept you unless you force them every step of the way," said Tom intensely, remembering his first year at Hogwarts.

"Could you please get us out of here?" Hermione asked faintly, "I would really like to go to the hospital wing."

"Sorry," Tom said, standing and turning to face the door again. First, he tried _Alohamora_ again, with no more success. Then he began trying other spells. "_Exsolvo… Hníga… Agored._" None of them worked. Finally, he decided to try the Muggle way. He conjured a lockpick and started work on the lock. Lockpicking was one of the skills he had picked up in the orphanage before attending Hogwarts. Within a minute, the lock was open.

"Impressive," Hermione said.

"Sometimes doing things the Muggle way requires a lot less effort," he replied. Realizing that she was still on the floor, he went over to help her up.

"Do you think that you can walk?" he asked.

"We'll find out in a moment." Hermione began to walk gingerly, then gained more confidence.

"I'll be fine, you can go to potions."

"No, I'll go with you, just in case they try to attack you again. I can carry your bag for you at least," he said.

"Thank you," Hermione said, feeling a little ashamed about how she had treated him in the past week. Tom apparently was thinking about the same thing.

"Does this mean that you are going to start speaking to me again?" he asked hopefully as they walked.

"I suppose I could," answered Hermione, a small smile gracing her features.

"That's good," he said, relief in his voice. "We really need to get working on our runes project. It was kind of hard to get much done this week."

"I'm sorry," Hermione said ashamedly. "You just made me so angry, then I was upset thinking about everyone from home who had been killed, so I wasn't acting very logically. I guess that I was being at least a self-pitying as you were, maybe more."

"Hey, what are friends for?" Tom asked rhetorically with a smile.

"_Friends with Lord Voldemort. Just think what Harry and Ron would say about it. They went crazy when I was friends with Viktor_," she reminisced, letting out a short laugh, before remembering the state of her ribs.

"What's so funny?" Tom asked curiously.

"I was just thinking about my friends and what they would have said," she replied.

"What would they have said?" he asked with a smile.

"Well, probably something like this," Hermione joked, pulling an outraged face. "'Hermione, have you gone bonkers? Are you Imperio-ed? He's a bloody Slytherin!'" she shouted quietly, mimicking Ron.

Tom laughed as they arrived at the infirmary. The nurse immediately put Hermione to bed and gave her a Bone-Mending potion. Tom came over by her bed.

"I hope that you don't think that I'm just 'a bloody Slytherin,'" Tom said seriously. "It seems like you did at the beginning of the year."

"Yes, I did, but a bloody Slytherin would have just left me back in that room, not rescued me," she replied sleepily. "You better go to potions and tell Slughorn where we were. I'll see you tomorrow. We should meet in the library to work on our mirror."

"What time?" Tom asked.

"Could you get me my bag?"

Tom grabbed it and set it on the edge of her bed. Riffling through it, she came up with two silver sickles. She quickly cast the Protean Charm on them.

"I'll put the time on it tomorrow," she said, handing one of them to him. "Now go to class, or I'll have to deduct points," she added in her best prefect's voice.

"Yes, ma'am," Tom said mock respectfully, leaving the infirmary. He went back to potions, a smirk on his face. He stopped at the door, schooling his face into an upset expression.

Most of the class was too focused on their potions to notice his entrance. He walked up to Professor Slughorn, who was sitting at his desk munching on candied pineapple.

"Tom, my boy, where have you been?" Slughorn questioned.

"I had to help Hermione up to the infirmary," Tom replied.

"What happened?" Slughorn asked loudly, garnering the attention of the whole room.

"She was attacked in the hallway on her way to class. If I hadn't come along, I don't know what would have happened to her."

"Did you apprehend the culprits?"

"Unfortunately, I didn't. When I entered the room, they ran out and locked the door from the outside. I was more concerned about Hermione than about catching them," Tom explained.

"It sounds like you're practically a hero. I will take it upon myself to explain the situation to Headmaster Dippet. We can't have students attacking each other in the hallway," Slughorn said solemnly.

"What potion did you cover today, sir?" Tom asked.

"Oh, nothing too difficult, just Gregory's Unctuous Unction. You can come down with Hermione sometime to make it, since you won't have enough time to finish today."

Thank you, professor," Tom said gratefully.

Tom went to see Hermione after Transfiguration that afternoon. The second he entered, Hermione began talking.

"What did I miss in Potions and Transfiguration?" she asked anxiously.

"Not much, Gregory's Unctuous Unction and the beginning of our unit on Animagus. Slughorn said that we should just come in sometime and make it. He isn't concerned about it at all. On Monday, we'll be testing our potential for becoming an Animagus, so our only assignment is to read the chapter on it in our textbook," Tom reassured her.

"Oh, good. I didn't want to get behind," said Hermione, relieved.

"Slughorn was going to tell Dippet about your attack this morning. Hopefully, they'll be able to find out who did it."

"I hope that I find them first," Hermione said angrily. "I have a lot of good spells for people like that, attacking me from behind my back."

"I'll try to think of who it might have been," Tom promised. "I at least saw their height, even though they had hoods that prevented me from seeing their faces."

"Fine, but tell me before you tell Dippet," said Hermione, rather bloodthirstily.

They talked a little about their classes before Tom excused himself, saying that he wanted to look up some techniques for making their mirror.

Instead, he went up to the clock tower. Armand Crabbe and Douglas Goyle were waiting for him. Hermione had seen them around school, but had never bothered to introduce herself, making them perfect for Tom's scheme.

"You did very well this morning," Tom congratulated them.

"Thank you, my lord," Crabbe replied stupidly.

"You are very lucky that you remembered to blindfold her. If she had seen the family crest on your ring, you would have been caught for sure," Tom continued, glaring at them dangerously.

The two thugs began to look nervous.

"If I was not in a particularly forgiving mood, you would be right to be nervous," Tom said.

"However, there was no harm done this time. See that you are more cautious next time. _Obliviate!_ There, do you remember what you did this morning?" he asked.

"No, my lord," Goyle answered, looking somewhat confused. "I think we just went to breakfast, then went back to the dormitory. That's what we usually do."

"Very good, go back to the common room now," Tom ordered.

The two Slytherins trudged out of the tower, tripping down the stairs. Tom snorted in disgust. "_Why do I even bother with these idiots?"_ he wondered.

He stood there several minutes, watching the gears in the clock. Seeing them always calmed him and reminded him to be patient in his plans. "_If the gears are built correctly, nothing is left to chance_," he thought.

Tom went through the events of the day in his mind. They had occurred exactly as he had planned. The strap on Hermione's bag had broken after a sly _Diffindo_ spell that cut partway through it. Crabbe and Goyle had successfully attacked her. After making them practice the petrifying and silencing spells most of the night, he had had no doubts as to their capabilities. Most importantly, he had rescued her, appearing nearly Gryffindoric in his actions. It was only a matter of time before Hermione trusted him. She had already began to tell him about her past and admitted that he was not as bad as she had thought. "_I will have her by Christmas at the latest," _Tom gloated. "_She will never again be a threat to me_."


	11. Catching Mistakes

Chapter Eleven

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or anything pertaining to him, such as Hermione Granger, Tom Riddle, etc, etc.

By the next morning, Hermione was fully recovered. Madam Flager allowed her to leave the infirmary, warning her to take better care of herself. Hermione immediately went to her dormitory to drop off her books. She then took out the enchanted sickle and charmed it for 10:00 A.M., giving herself time for bathing and getting something to eat from the house-elves. At ten minutes to ten, she left her room, carrying her overfilled bag, and headed toward the library. Tom was already there when she arrived.

"How are you today?" he asked genuinely.

"I feel fine, just a slight twinge sometimes even though the nurse said that I was fully healed," she replied dismissively.

"Are you sure you should be up already?" he questioned.

"I'm fine, I've had worse," she replied, taking out her notes.

"You've had worse? Do you make a habit of breaking bones?" he asked.

"Sometimes it's unavoidable."

"Do you play football when you're not studying?" he joked.

"Yes, actually. Well, I try, but I always end up with two yellow cards," she replied with a straight face, relieved that he wasn't pursuing the matter. She didn't want to have to make up any more stories. It was just a matter of time until he caught her in one.

"I'm not surprised. You Gryffindors are much more vicious than we are. There's a study that says that 68 percent of all brawls at Quidditch matches in the U.K. are started by former Gryffindors," he said with a superior look on his face.

"You completely made that up," Hermione laughed.

"No, I didn't. Gryffindors start the brawls, Slytherins just insult them first. Having a hot temper can get you into a lot of trouble," he said with a look of mock seriousness.

Hermione punched him in the arm, eliciting a startled yelp and earning them a glare from

Madam Ippenbok.

"We had better start planning this mirror before you get us thrown out," Tom said.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Hermione replied, nose in the air.

"Of course not. So, the first thing we have to do is cut the obsidian. A circle would be the best shape, don't you think?"

"That's what I thought, too," Hermione said.

"How should we attach the gems? All I could think of is melting spots on the obsidian and pushing them in."

"Oh, I have notes on a spell for this," Hermione said, handing Tom several sheets of parchment.

"Look through those; I'll look in this pile." After a few minutes, Tom found it.

"_Elkartu_ _harri_, is that what you were looking for?" Tom asked.

"Yes, that's right."

"What language is that?" he asked curiously.

"It's Basque. It means "to bind together stone," roughly."

"You know Basque?"

"Well, only a few spells. I didn't have anything else to do last summer, I was practically out of books to read, unless I wanted to read about the benefits of a chimerical Animagus form. Seriously, who would want to mash together different animals, it would defeat the purpose. Everyone would know that you weren't a normal creature." Realizing that she was going off on a tangent, she refocused herself. "This spell ought to work without much difficulty. Ugh, I got ink on my hand," she complained, reaching into her robes for a handkerchief. The one she found was used, with a dried liquid on it.

"Eww, what is this? Spit?" she thought out loud. She tried to think about where it could have come from. "Oh, it's from when those bastards attacked me, one of them spit on me," she said venomously. Hermione paused, thinking for a moment. "I could use this to find them. I could alter Polyjuice Potion to work with DNA from saliva instead of hair."

"That's great," Tom lied, feeling somewhat nervous. "What's DNA?"

"DNA stands for deoxyribonucleic acid. Everyone's DNA is different, letting you identify them by a strand of hair, blood, saliva, practically…uh, nevermind. You probably don't want to hear about it anyway," she replied. "_I'm in trouble now, DNA won't be used to identify people for forty years! I have to think of something!"_ she thought hysterically.

"I've never heard of that," Tom said, feigning polite interest, though he was quite upset with this turn of events. "Is it a fairly recent discovery? I would think that the Aurors would use it all the time."

"Well, not really. It's a very obscure Muggle study. It's kind of a hobby of mine. I like to try to think of ways to integrate Muggle technology and magic," she answered, hoping that he would believe her.

He didn't. However, Tom had nothing to gain by confronting her. "Oh. It sounds interesting. Do you want some help on the potion?"

Hermione most certainly did not want help. She wanted to _Obliviate _him to forget this conversation. "Umm…I think that I can handle it. You'll be busy enough with your Head Boy duties and our runes project without helping me."

"I can't work on the mirror by myself," he pointed out. "If I help you, the potion will be done sooner and we can go back to our project."

"It's not like I have to make the potion immediately," Hermione said, beginning to sound a tiny bit irritated. "_I wish he'd stop being so polite!" _"I'll make it on my own time. I don't want you to have extra work on the mirror."

"If you're sure," Tom said, also irritated that she was being so stubborn about this, though he managed to hide it. "_I must try to find out everything that I can about deoxyribonucleic acid_," he thought. "_It could be very uncomfortable if she finds out about Crabbe and Goyle. Good thing I Obliviated them_," he thought.

"I'm sure," she said snippily. "Back to the mirror, we use _Elkartu harri_ to bind the gems to the obsidian. Then we need to choose which runes to inscribe on it and how to do it. We can carve them, make them from metal and bind them, there are a lot of possibilities. They all have positive and negative attributes," she lectured, reverting to prefect-speak.

Slightly insulted by her tone, Tom responded. "I have already thought about it. Since the obsidian is the most important part of the mirror, we should carve the runes directly on it. We can them fill the engraving with a metal, preferably white gold since it has the powers of gold and palladium. A sealing spell will hold the metal in the engraving when we are finished."

Hermione was silent for a moment. "Have you decided what runes to use yet?" she asked slightly antagonistically.

"No," Tom replied politely. "I thought that we ought to decide together."

"How thoughtful of you," said Hermione, with a saccharinely sweet smile. Hermione still wasn't used to having and intellectual equal, even after being in class with Tom for over two months. Right now, she was feeling the same irritation that she had felt when Harry had beaten her in potions using the Half-Blood Prince's book. She beat it down, but not before Tom sensed it. Of course, her sarcasm had already given it away.

"Well, I think that's all we have to do today," Tom said, not wanting to antagonize her further.

"We can talk to Professor LeRue about getting out of class sometime this week to start making it."

"Sounds good to me," Hermione said, relieved that he hadn't asked her anything else about DNA. She quickly left to start work on her potion.

"_I've never heard of DNA. She wasn't making it up; there would be no reason to," _Tom thought.The more he thought about it, the more disturbed he became. His plan was supposed to resolve his questions about Hermione, not create more. He took out a piece of parchment and created a list:

She knows about my ancestry.

She knows about Voldemort and the Death Eaters.

She has been seriously injured before, in an unusual way. Otherwise, she wouldn't avoid telling me.

She is too well-educated to have been taught by a tutor, especially when her parents are Muggles.

She knows magical techniques that are not common knowledge and may not even have been used by the Ministry, unless they are from the Department of Mysteries.

She was and may still be planning on killing someone, most likely me.

So far, he had not been able to explain any of these. He was beginning to get quite disgruntled. Tom considered slipping her some Veritaserum. It would make his life so much easier. "_But much less enjoyable_," he reasoned. It would be interesting to see how long Hermione would be able to hold out against his mental and emotional assault. There was no reason to begin a physical one yet. Though the thought that she might also be acting and trying to get close to him in order to kill him did make him uncomfortable. Tom stood up, incinerated the list and left the library.

Hermione, of course, had not thought seriously of killing Tom since soon after he started dating Louisa. She was more preoccupied with finding out the identities of the thugs who had attacked her. She thought through the potions that she could use. "_A modification of Polyjuice Potion_," she decided. "_If I alter it a little, I should be able to use the saliva in it." _Hermione had managed to impress herself with her own ingeniousness. She immediately went down to the laboratory to get supplies from Slughorn.

"Hello, Hermione," Slughorn said. "Are you feeling better today?"

"Much better, thank you. I actually came to get some ingredients. I want to make an altered Polyjuice Potion to try to identify my assailants. I have some saliva that I might be able to use to find them."

"What an intriguing idea! Have you made Polyjuice Potion before, Miss Granger?"

"Of course not, sir. It's illegal," she lied.

"Come now, Miss Granger, we've been over this before. I'm not the Slytherin Head for nothing, my dear," he said, a paternal look on his face.

Hermione decided that it wouldn't do any harm to tell him.

"Yes, I've made it several times. The first time was in second year."

"My, you were precocious! I don't see any problem with your idea as long as you aren't planning on using it," he said with a wink. "Just look in my store cupboard. All the ingredients are there. You are welcome to use my back room to prepare it. We wouldn't want anyone sabotaging it."

"Thank you, sir, but I have a place in mind already," she responded.

"I won't even bother asking you where, Miss Granger. Are you sure that you shouldn't have been sorted into Slytherin?" he asked jollily. "Too bad for my old house," he said, appraising her.

"I had better get going, sir. I was supposed to meet Minerva at lunch," she lied.

"All right, don't forget about making up Gregory's Unctuous Unction for yesterday," Slughorn called after her as she left the room.

Hermione spent the rest of the weekend starting her potion. She had to complete several calculations and measure out the ingredients exceedingly accurately. The potion had to be perfect or else she couldn't be sure of her results. She also had to soak the handkerchief in a Distilling Potion and retrieve the saliva from the bottom of the beaker. Not a very pleasant task. By Sunday night, she was ready to put Veritaserum in the pumpkin juice of the whole Slytherin table. But no mere potion could defeat Hermione, so she went back to work.

On Monday, Hermione headed to Transfigurations immediately after breakfast. "_What was it Tom said that they did? Something with Animagus forms?"_ she tried to recall as she sat down in her usual front-row seat.

"Welcome, class. I trust that you have had a very relaxing weekend," Dumbledore said, his gaze resting on Hermione for a second. "Today we will be testing your potential for an Animagus form. Remember that very few wizards are capable of this transformation. One must have a great affinity for a certain animal and particularly strong magical abilities. Not having an Animagus form is by no means a failure. I have prepared a scrying glass that will show you your animal. The more clearly you see it, the more likely it is that you will achieve an Animagus form. Please form a queue."

All the students lined up. Minerva, unsurprisingly, was one of the first in line.

"Hermione," she called excitedly after looking in the glass, "I saw mine, it was just like a reflection."

"What was your animal?" Hermione asked, pretending to be curious.

"It was a cat, a tabby. I'm sure that I'll be able to do it. I can't wait!" she said.

Hermione had never seen Minerva so excited. Frankly, it was disconcerting to see her future professor so bouncy. One other student had a similarly clear view before Tom and Hermione. As he had expected, Tom saw a snake in the glass, clear enough to see the light reflecting from its eyes.

Hermione was right behind him. She stepped up to the glass, anxious to see if she would be able to develop a form. A large black bird appeared instantly.

"A raven, very impressive Miss Granger!" Dumbledore said. "Will those of you with clear pictures please come forward? I would like a quick word with you."

When they had gathered around his desk, he began speaking. "I have never had so many students in one class with such an affinity for becoming Animagi. Because of this, I will ask Headmaster Dippet for permission to have extra classes to teach you how to shift into your animal forms. Upon your successful transformation, you will be registered with the Ministry. If you are not planning to register, you need not attend any of the extra classes," he finished.

Dumbledore spent the rest of the class lecturing about other forms of human transformation, such as size change, werewolf shifting, and Metamorphmagi. It soon ended and Hermione went to congratulate Minerva.

"I can't believe that I can be an Animagus!" Minerva gushed.

"Calm down," Hermione laughed, "You're starting to sound like Louisa."

"Ugh. Think what that could do to my reputation," Minerva said with mock fear, pausing. "I don't really care. If anyone other than you comments about it, I'll just take away twenty points," she said, returning to her gleeful state. "Are you going to do the extra classes? I don't know why you wouldn't."

"I'm not sure. I'm so busy already with my runes project. I don't know if I can handle extra Transfiguration classes. I can always learn after I graduate," Hermione said. The real reason behind her indecision is that she didn't want to register with the Ministry.

"I suppose." Minerva said disappointedly. "I was hoping that there would be another Gryffindor in it. Tom and those two Ravenclaws are the only other students eligible."

"I'll think about it," Hermione promised.

"Miss Granger," she heard Dumbledore say. "May I speak with you for a moment?"

Hermione dutifully walked over to his desk. He waited until the last student filed out.

"I have noticed that you have been spending a lot of time outside of class with Mr. Riddle. I was curious about your change of heart."

Hermione was not thrilled with this conversation. Dumbledore hadn't tried to help her at all at the beginning of the year, she remembered resentfully. Why was he suddenly taking an interest?

"He hasn't done anything remotely suspicious. I did watch him while he was dating Louisa, but he has a perfect gentleman. According to Myrtle, he talks to her and said that he was sorry about her death immediately after she started haunting the bathroom. I don't understand it at all. The only possibility that I can think of is that he isn't as bad as I thought," Hermione said rather fervently.

"Just don't let your hopes overshadow the facts," Dumbledore warned.

Hermione interpreted it as condescension. "Don't worry about me. I can deal with it," she said shortly, walking out of the classroom. She met Tom coming around the corner of the hallway.

"I was just coming to find you," he said. "I wanted to talk to you about our project before runes this afternoon." He had actually been listening to their conversation from behind the door and couldn't have been more pleased with what he heard.

"Okay, why don't we go get lunch first?" Hermione suggested.

"I already ate, but I'll sit with you while you eat," Tom agreed, smiling, though it was really a masked smirk. The only reason to sit at another house's table was if you were dating one of them. Apparently Hermione didn't realize what conclusions would be drawn. "_Perfect_," he thought


	12. Counterattack

Chapter 12

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, never have, never will.

AN: Slight change in last chapter. I deleted all references to chimerical Animagus forms. It will probably come up again later.

* * *

Tom and Hermione entered the Great Hall. Hermione went straight to the Gryffindor table, sat down, and began to eat ravenously. Tom appeared slightly uncomfortable for a moment, then ambled over and sat down next to her. There was a collective gasp from all the tables. Hermione didn't notice; she was too busy with her meal. Tom smiled at the Slytherin girls who were glaring at him. After watching Hermione eat for a few minutes, he reminded her of the reason he was sitting with her.

"So, I wanted to talk to you about runes…" he said.

"Oh, sorry, I completely forgot that you were there," Hermione replied, blushing.

"Don't worry, it happens all the time," Tom joked drolly.

"Sure it does," she deadpanned. "So what did you want to talk about?"

"We need to decide which day we want to get out of runes to work on our mirror and we need to fill out a form requesting financial support for the materials. Professor LeRue also suggested that we apply for a patent from the International Magical Patent Society in case it actually works," he said, adopting a snobbish voice, obviously mimicking the Ravenclaw Head's tone.

"I hate paperwork," Hermione complained. "And I have to fill out the Animagus registration form," she sighed.

"You're taking the course?" Tom asked, surprised.

"I'm not taking it. I don't particularly like Dumbledore and don't have a reason to take the class anyway," he said covertly.

"Do you already know how to shift?" Hermione asked.

"That's not what I meant," Tom said quickly. "I meant that I don't have a reason to want to be an Animagus. I don't think that a cobra is a usual sight even in the wizarding part of London."

"That's not a good reason. I think that you've already learned how to shift into your Animagus form," she accused good-naturedly.

Tom glanced around. Luckily, most of the Gryffindors were already gone or too busy eating to pay much attention to the conversation. He was slightly unbalanced at her astute judgment. "I would never do something like that," he lied. "You can get sent to Azkaban for not registering with the Ministry."

"A true Slytherin would never let something like the Ministry stop them from getting what they wanted," Hermione said, sensing that he was not being completely honest.

"A true Slytherin also wouldn't do something stupid with more risks than rewards," Tom retorted, somewhat miffed at her doubt in his Slytherin-ness.

"That's right, bravery isn't a requirement to be a Slytherin," Hermione said with a demonic glint in her eye. She was enjoying having the upperhand for once. It did not last long.

"So you are an Animagus then? I mean, a brave Gryffindor lioness like you wouldn't be afraid of a little time in Azkaban," Tom said, his smirk returning as he turned her own argument against her.

Hermione floundered for a second.

"Oh, you two are _so_ cute!" someone said. Hermione turned around, her glare rivaling that of a medusa and spotted Louisa who had just come into the Great Hall with Jason. "I always thought that you would make a great couple!"

Tom began coughing to hide his laughter. Hermione turned crimson and gaped at her.

"We are most certainly _not_ a couple!"

"Then why is Tom sitting at the Gryffindor table?" Louisa asked logically, nearly straining her frontal lobe.

"Because we had to talk about our Ancient Runes project!" Hermione explained stridently.

"That's not what I heard you talking about," Louisa sang. Jason was looking uncomfortable and tried to pull Louisa away from the table, unsuccessfully to his chagrin. "Hermione, you were definitely flirting!"

Hermione nearly passed out. She had never been accused of flirting with anyone in her life. She decided to cut her losses and left the hall before Louisa could say another word. Tom watched her leave, then picked up her forgotten bag and meandered after her, thoroughly enjoying the gossiping whispers that followed him.

Hermione couldn't look at him without blushing all through Ancient Runes. When class finished, she hurried toward the door only to be called back by Professor LeRue. Tom was waiting by the professor's desk.

"Have you two decided which day you would like to have to work on your project? You are getting short on time," LeRue warned.

"Wednesday," "Monday," they said simultaneously.

"Hmmm…since you seemingly cannot reach an accord you will be allowed to leave class every Wednesday to work in the room next door," LeRue decided.

"Yes, Professor," they said, leaving the room. Hermione began to walk back to her dormitory.

The days before Christmas passed insanely quickly. Hermione was busy with runes and her potion, and Tom was busy with runes and observing Hermione making her potion. The alterations made it take longer than the usual month. On the Saturday two weeks before Christmas, the potion was finally ready. Hermione divided it into twenty doses and poured the saliva into one of them. It turned a disgusting zinnwaldite color and smelled of dirty socks. She ran into Tom halfway there.

"What are you so excited about?" he asked.

"I think my potion worked," she replied, gasping for breath.

"Who was it?" Tom questioned.

"I haven't tried it yet. I wanted to show Dumbledore."

Hermione resumed her speedy trek to find Dumbledore, with Tom following close behind. They soon reached his office. Hermione knocked strongly on the door. It opened, revealing Dumbledore sitting at his desk.

"What is the problem, Miss Granger?" he asked, taking account of her dishevelment from running.

"Nothing's wrong, I just finished the potion using the saliva from one of the people who attacked me," Hermione said hurriedly, looking immensely pleased with herself. Tom was beginning to feel a wee bit ill.

Dumbledore looked up quickly. "Have to tried the potion yet?"

"No, I wanted to make sure that I had witnesses."

"Are you planning on taking the potion yourself?" he asked.

"Well, I would prefer not to, but it's the only option," she answered, cringing at the idea of becoming male, even if only for an hour.

"Perhaps Mr. Riddle will help you?" Dumbledore suggested.

"It's an experimental potion, Professor. I don't want it to hurt anyone if I made a mistake,"  
Hermione said.

"Tom, are you willing to offer your assistance?" Dumbledore requested.

Tom thought quickly. He was reasonably sure that his Obliviation spell would withstand anything they could throw at Crabbe and Goyle, but it wouldn't hurt for him to appear willing to risk his own health to catch one of Hermione's assailants.

"Of course, Professor," Tom said smoothly, taking the flask from Hermione and drinking the contents.

It was distinctly uncomfortable. Tom was also glad that his robes were loose as Goyle's bulk began to strain against the fabric of his clothing.

"Goyle?" Hermione was surprised. The attack had seemed to well executed for the idiot of Slytherin.

Dumbledore waved his wand at Tom, changing him back to his normal form.

"I will tell Headmaster Dippet and he will question Mr. Goyle. You are welcome to come with for the questioning." he said, standing, waiting for them to leave ahead of him. Tom and Hermione stepped outside and Dumbledore headed off for Dippet's office.

"I better go," Hermione told Tom, following Dumbledore.

Tom had known that Hermione's potion would be finished today, so he had ordered Crabbe to wait for her to leave the room, then destroy her experiment. By now, the potion was hopelessly contaminated. Tom went to the Slytherin Common Room, found Crabbe, and _Oliviated_ him, removing all his memory of Tom's order and his own actions.

Dumbledore and Hermione arrived at Dippet's office. The Headmaster motioned for them to sit down. Dumbledore explained the situation.

"So you want me to question Mr. Goyle. I will summon him immediately," Dippet said, quickly penning a note and tying it to an owl.

Goyle arrived in ten minutes. He looked completely confused, with no idea why he was there.

"There have been some serious accusations made against you, Mr. Goyle. Miss Granger claims that you were one of her attackers in the unfortunate incident about a month ago," Dippet began.

"I didn't do it. I don't know who did," Goyle said, clearly upset. "_He nearly has tears in his eye_,"

Hermione thought viciously.

"Then you wouldn't mind taking a dose of Veritaserum to validate your claims."

"No, I'll take it," he said, drinking the cup of tea that Dumbledore conjured at Dippet's request.

"What is Veritaserum?" he asked after a moment.

"It's a truth potion, it will make you answer any of our questions honestly," Hermione said, excited about his impending doom.

"Oh."

"Mr. Goyle, did you attack Hermione Granger?"

"No, sir." Hermione was shocked. She glanced over a Dippet.

"Do you know who did?" Dippet asked.

"No, sir."

Dippet was irritated. The Goyle family was one of the richest families that attended Hogwarts. This could definitely hurt his standing with the Board of Governors.

"Miss Granger," he said, "What evidence do you have to support your accusations?"

"I made a modified Polyjuice Potion with saliva from one of my attackers. Tom Riddle took the potion and became Goyle, proving "

"It seems that your potion was wrong. Mr. Goyle is obviously not lying. You may all leave."

"I don't understand," Hermione said to Dumbledore. "I know that my potion was correct."

"I'm sure that Professor Slughorn could tell you if your recipe was correct," Dumbledore suggested. "You are one of his favorite students, even if you aren't a Slytherin."

"All right, I'll go right now."

Hermione entered the room where she had made the potion. There was broken glass and viscous fluid all over. Not a single beaker was intact. Hermione screamed in rage. Someone had ruined it. She didn't even have any saliva left to make another potion. There was no way to empirically prove that Goyle had attacked her. "_But now I know that I was right, or else someone wouldn't have ruined my potion_," she thought. Hermione tried to think of who could have done it. "_Goyle is too stupid to plan an attack like that. He must have been following someone's instructions. Yet, he doesn't remember it. So they must have altered his memories. And he had an accomplice, probably the same person who did this. Who would benefit from attacking me?" _she wondered.

Suddenly, it came to her. Crabbe and Goyle's families in her time were long-time supporters of Lord Voldemort, supposedly for several generations. Tom could easily have Obliviated them. He obviously gained from the attack: Hermione began to trust him. "_Of course, how could I be so stupid? He knew that he couldn't beat me into submission, so he is trying to manipulate me. I let too many things slip about myself. Well, I'll manipulate him back," _Hermione decided angrily. "_I should have known better than to trust Lord Voldemort,__" _she thought, disgusted with herself.

* * *

After Hermione realized that Tom had been manipulating her, she spent the rest of the weekend holed up in her dormitory. She began a journal to record everything that she was going to do. There was no danger in this; Hermione had enchanted it to need a password and a drop of blood to show anything on the pages. On the first page was the title _Operation Phoenix_, in memory of the Order. She had decided to succeed where they had failed. The next few pages were filled with lists of things that she knew, things that Tom knew, things that Tom might know, and so on. After completing the myriad of lists, Hermione read through it again. Piecing together the information, she came up with a plan.

Winter break arrived in no time. Nearly all of the students were leaving for Christmas. Tom and Hermione were the only seventh-year students left at the school.

Her foremost goal would be to hide her knowledge of Tom's duplicity from him. If this failed, her whole plot would fall apart. The second goal would be to gain his trust. To accomplish this, she would pretend to have a crush on him, and finally, throw in useless bits of information about herself that might explain some of her earlier comments, leading him to believe that she was disclosing information about herself. He would view her trust in him as proof of his control over her, negating the threat that she posed. Overall, it was perfect. Tom's ego was too large to let him believe that she could have caught on and Hermione certainly wasn't going to give it away. Hopefully, by the end of the year, Hermione would have enough information to either turn him over to the Ministry or find a weakness enabling her to kill him. She assumed that he had already created his Horcrux diary, though she wasn't sure. She would have to get hold of it eventually.

Hermione decided to alleviate Tom's worry about Goyle by pretending to believe that she had made a mistake in her potion. On Monday, the last one before Christmas, Hermione walked into Transfiguration, acting rather glum.

"Hey Hermione," Tom said when she sat down next to him. "What's the matter?"

"I think that I made a mistake on my potion. The potion I used to get the saliva out of the handkerchief must have contaminated the DNA. And someone ruined all of the potions, so I won't even be able to try again," she said in a depressed voice.

"It was a long shot anyway," Tom said, seeming to comfort her. Inside, he was ecstatic.

"I just want to forget about it. Dippet was pretty upset with me for accusing the wrong person."

"We have other things to worry about anyway," Tom agreed. "There's still a lot to do on our mirror. We still have to inscribe all the runes."

"I've been neglecting it again, haven't I? Sorry about that."

"Don't worry, we still have plenty of time."

"Will you be here over Christmas? We could work on it then."

"Yes, it's either here or the orphanage, not much of a choice, really."

"I don't have anywhere to go either," Hermione commiserated.

"Not even any relatives? I mean, I knew that your parent had died, but-"

At that instant, Dumbledore came into the room.

"Welcome to our last Transfiguration class of the year!" he said with a smile.

Some of the students gasped in shock, looking at each other.

"What about N.E.W.T.s?" a Hufflepuff boy asked, worriedly.

"He meant the calendar year, not the school year, stupid," Minerva whispered loudly. Tom and Hermione smirked at each other.

In the spirit of the season, they spent the entire class transfiguring various items into Christmas decorations for a tree-decorating contest. Students formed pairs and were given a small tree to decorate. Tom and Hermione were paired together as usual.

"Dumbledore apparently doesn't believe in having schoolwork over vacation," Hermione happily said as she made tinsel out of the sawdust she had gotten from the materials table at the front of the room..

"No, I don't think he's ever assigned anything over Christmas," Tom replied, transforming a lightning bug into a glowing sphere and placing it on the tree.

They continued their light conversation until the judges arrived. They were none other than Dippet, Slughorn, Ippenbok, the severe librarian, and a house-elf, whom Dumbledore introduced as Glindy. It came as no surprise that Hermione and Tom won. Other than Minerva's tree, there was not any serious competition. One of the trees was decorated with live mice that a student had tied to the branches. Hermione nudged Tom and pointed to it. Uncharacteristically, he snorted in laughter, causing Hermione to giggle, thinking "_I'm fooling him, good work, Hermione!"_

The rest of the week passed quickly, with almost no serious work assigned except by Professor LeRue, who assigned everyone, excluding Tom and Hermione, a three-foot essay on the interdisciplinary use of runes in everyday life. For the first time in her school career, Hermione was glad to get out of an assignment.

On Friday, everyone left to go home or on a vacation. There were only about twenty-five students left, most of them younger than fifth-year. Hermione and Tom spent Saturday and Sunday working on their mirror, managing to finish binding all of the gems to the obsidian slab.

After they finished, they were absolutely exhausted.

"I'm going to bed," Hermione yawned, though it was only nine o'clock.

"Umm…" Tom hesitated, "Could you come with me somewhere?"

"Where?" Hermione asked, feeling a little apprehensive.

"Please just come," Tom pleaded. Hermione looked at him a moment, then nodded.

"_I hope this isn't a big mistake_," Hermione thought.

Tom grabbed her hand and led her through the school and up several winding staircases. Finally, they arrived.

"Where are we?" asked Hermione curiously, though she already knew.

"This is the clock tower, see?" he said, pointing behind her. Hermione turned around and saw the huge clock face. "This is my favorite place in the entire school. No one else seems to know about it."

"It's beautiful," Hermione said, regretting not coming up here sooner. She walked over to a narrow window and gazed up at the waxing moon.

"It won't be full until New Year's Eve," Tom said, looking over her shoulder.

They stood there for a few minutes before Hermione broke the silence.

"We should probably go to our rooms, it's getting late," she said, rubbing her arms.

"Are you cold?" Tom asked.

"A little," she admitted.

"I know a really good charm for that," Tom said, waving his wand. She immediately felt warmer.

"It works by forming a layer of warm air around you."

"Thanks."

Tom walked her to her dormitory. When she turned to say good night, he was looking at her intensely, gazing into her eyes. "_Oh no," _Hermione thought, "_he's trying to use Legilimency!"_ She tried to empty her mind. Neither of them moved for a moment. Then Tom turned abruptly and headed to his rooms.

Tom did consider Legilimency for a moment before he was distracted by Hermione's rather striking eyes. Sometimes they looked mud, but at the moment, they appeared more like orbs of burnished bronze. He then actually considered what it might feel like to kiss her, a very disturbing occurrence for Tom, because he could not come up with a good reason for this compulsion. _"What is wrong with me?"_ he asked himself as he walked up to his rooms.

Hermione lay awake trying to think of a reason for Tom to take her up to the clock tower. So did Tom. Neither of them was successful. They soon fell into dissatisfied sleep.

At three in the morning, Hermione woke for no particular reason. She lit her wand and looked at the clock. "_It's Christmas_," she thought. "_But there won't be any gifts this year." _Hermione thought about her friends and past Christmases. Suddenly Tom came to mind, along with an idea. Hermione grabbed her invisibility cloak and left the dormitory.

The next morning when Tom awoke, he found a gift in the Common Room with his name on it. He was very surprised; he had never received a Christmas gift before. There was no card with the giver's name on it. He looked at it more closely. It was the right size and shape for a book. He carefully opened the package, setting the ribbons and paper on the settee. He turned the book over. An observer would have been astonished at the expression of happiness upon his face. It was a first-edition copy of _The Early History of the Hogwarts Founders_. Tom knew that neither Hogwarts nor the Ministry had a copy, most of them had been destroyed. Tom soon realized who must have given it to him. He threw on his robes and started digging through his trunk.

When Hermione entered the Great Hall for the Christmas Feast, Tom was already there. More surprisingly, he was sitting at the Gryffindor table waiting for her with a small package next to the book that he was perusing. She walked over to him and say down.

"Merry Christmas," she said brightly. He looked up, having missed her entrance.

"Merry Christmas," he said, a genuine smile on his face.

"What are you reading?" Hermione asked, pretending not to know.

"I thought you would know already," Tom said, catching the fake innocence in her voice.

"Why would I know?" Hermione asked.

"Well, I thought you were the one who gave it to me. If you aren't, then I'll just go back to my own table," he replied, pretending to gather up his belongings.

"Fine, I gave it to you," Hermione admitted.

"Where did you find it? No one has seen a copy in years."

"Can't a girl have a few secrets?" Hermione joked. She had actually found it on a bookshelf in the same room in which she found the portal and had decided to bring it through the portal, since she hadn't taken the time to read it first.

"Well, I assume that you won't tell me even if I say 'no.'"

"Right."

"Then I won't bother." He went back to reading his new book.

"What's that?" Hermione pointed at the small box.

"Oh, it's a gift for a girl I know. I'm not sure that I want to give it to her though, she's rather irritating, not to mention a horrific liar," he said playfully.

"She might be more polite if you would just give her gift to her," Hermione stated.

"I might as well try," Tom sighed, pushing the box across the table.

Hermione tore it open immediately and found a silvery ring with a moonstone set in it.

"It's made of quicksilver," Tom said. "Together with the moonstone, it gives protection and luck. Specifically, it ought to weaken immobilizing spells. I hope you don't mind that I used the extra moonstone from our mirror materials," he added nervously.

"No, I don't mind. It's very pretty, thanks." She debated for a moment, then slipped it on. "_Even if it does have a harmful spell on it, there are plenty of teachers around to catch him_," she reasoned.

"You're welcome. Thanks for the book, it's fascinating."

"I thought that you would like it, I've seen you reading _Hogwarts: A History_ more than even I read it."

"Hogwarts is the closest thing to a home that I've had, so I always wanted to know as much about it as possible."

"I know what you mean, it's the closest thing I've got, too."

"Rather pathetic, aren't we," Tom said, slight bitterness creeping into his tone.

"There are many worse homes," Hermione insisted. "And I doubt that anyone is eating a better meal than we are," she said as the feast appeared on the tables. "Now put your book away," she ordered.

The rest of the afternoon was spent wandering around the school. The couple talked about many things, from their favorite classes to the pranks that Fred and George had pulled during their school years, though Hermione didn't use their names. Eventually, Hermione mentioned that she knew of three Hogwarts students who had become unregistered Animagi in their fifth year.

"Would you do that?" Tom asked.

"I don't know, it would depend on if I had a reason to," she replied.

"I would," Tom admitted. "The Ministry is corrupt. It uses laws to punish people without fortune or blood. They are not worthy of controlling the Wizarding World. Plus, what is the point of having an Animagus form if everyone knows about it?" Tom astonished himself. He had not even told the Death Eaters about this belief.

"Yes, but they are the best we have," Hermione said, interested by the turn their conversation had taken.

"Sometimes our best isn't good enough."

"You could change it, Tom. In twenty years, you could be Minister of Magic. Then you would be able to make the Ministry whatever it ought to be."

"I could never be Minister. Who was the last half-blood Minister that you remember?"

Hermione was silent for a minute.

"Exactly," he continued. "There haven't been any. They don't respect achievement or work, only power and lineage."

"If anyone could change that, you could," Hermione responded. "You are smart, ambitious, charming, everything you would need to be successful. Nearly everyone in the school falls all over you."

"Now they do, but once we're out of school, I'll be just another wizard, without family or wealth to buy support."

"You can try, Tom," Hermione said gently.

"Maybe I will, maybe I won't. So, do you want to become an Animagus?" he asked, abruptly changing the subject.

"Why?" Hermione asked cautiously.

"I can teach you how to do it," Tom replied. "Then you won't need to take Dumbledore's class."

"Show me yours," Hermione demanded, realizing what he was suggesting. "I don't believe you."

Tom looked around the hallway, then shifted into a black cobra form and back. Hermione pretended to be surprised.

"How long have you been able to shift?" she asked.

"Since fourth year," Tom shrugged.

"You would teach me?" Hermione asked suspiciously.

"Why not?"

"Then I'll tell Dumbledore that I have decided not to take the classes," Hermione stated decisively after a moment.

"What time is it?" Hermione asked several hallways and stairways later.

"About eight o'clock."

"Let's go down to the kitchen and get some food from the elves. We already missed dinner."

They went down to the kitchen and got some sandwiches and butterbeer. Then they walked up to the clock tower for their late supper. They conversed in a friendly manner for about another hour, Hermione tactfully avoiding mentioning the Ministry. Then Tom walked her back to her room.

"Good night," Hermione said, turning around at the Gryffindor Common Room doorway. Tom was once again gazing at her intensely. Hermione shoved all thoughts from her mind. Tom leaned forward, whispered, "Good night," kissed her lightly on the corner of her mouth, and walked away, leaving Hermione staring after him in amazement, palm against her lips.


	13. Never Have I Ever

Chapter Thirteen - Never Have I Ever

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and give full credit to Ms. J.K. Rowling.

AN: By the way, I generally update when I have over 100 hits and/or a small handful of reviews. Obviously, I don't expect all of you to re-review each chapter, but I would like your comments about the changes I am making. Thanks!

* * *

Tom entered the Head Boy's room, cursing his stupidity. "_Why did I have to go and kiss her? That wasn't in the plan. There was absolutely no reason to!" _

"_But she _is_ smart, pretty, kind… How many more reasons do I need?"_

'_Those aren't reasons!" _he reminded himself. "_A reason would be getting information from her, distracting her, or manipulating her. Now she'll start manipulating me!"_

"_No, she wouldn't do that," _he reassured himself.

"_But how do I know? I barely know anything about her! And I have no feelings for her," _he thought.

Tom threw himself into his chair in front of the fireplace. He sat sullenly for a while, then went to bed. After tossing and turning for two hours, he drank a sleeping potion and fell asleep.

Hermione stood at the door watching Tom walk away. In shock, she made her way up to the empty dormitory. She was no less conflicted than Tom. Though she wanted to believe that it was purely manipulation, she couldn't quite convince herself of it.

"_He's been faking everything for weeks, he's just trying to fool me into believing that he cares about me," _she insisted.

"_But what if he wasn't?" _she asked herself.

Mimicking Tom actions, Hermione drank a sleeping draught and went to bed, trying not to think about the events of the evening.

The next morning, both awoke early and immediately decided to pretend that nothing had happened. They also both tried to believe that Tom had only done it to manipulate Hermione, though neither quite managed. It seemed like a grand idea until they saw each other at breakfast.

Hermione got there first, determined to eat quickly and leave before Tom arrived.

Unfortunately, Tom had gotten the same idea and walked in two minutes later. He was marginally successful in pretending that he hadn't kissed her. Only his ears became red. Hermione had no such luck. She soon felt a burning heat spreading from her chest to the top of her head. In seconds, her face was a fiery red, matching the Gryffindor coat of arms. She finished eating and rushed out of the Great Hall. Tom stood and followed her, deliberately ignoring the knowing glances coming from the professors. Slughorn in particular had a rather large smirk on his face. Apparently he couldn't have been more pleased about Tom's choice of a new girlfriend.

Tom caught up with Hermione halfway to the library. He jogged up beside her.

"Good morning, Hermione," he greeted.

"Hello," she replied curtly.

"Could I talk to you a minute before you barricade yourself in the library?" he asked, attempting a bit of humor.

Hermione did not find it funny. She was too busy trying to avoid looking at him to even hear his question.

"Hermione?"

"Hmmm?"

"I asked if I could talk to you."

"Oh, right," she said, abruptly stopping in the middle of the hallway. "What about?" she asked, hoping that he was not thinking about the same thing she was.

"About last night," Tom replied hesitatingly. When she didn't respond, he continued. "You know, at the Fat Lady's portrait?" His ears were noticeably redder than they had been a minute earlier. Hermione noticed this and was encouraged. She figured that Lord Voldemort would never blush on purpose. It wasn't dignified.

"Oh, that, don't worry about it," she said, smiling brightly.

"_A bit too brightly_," Tom thought. "_Why isn't she embarrassed, too?"_

"I don't know what possessed me," Tom apologized. "I value your friendship too much to ruin it with something so stupid," he lied.

Hermione peered at him closely for a moment, then said, "You're lying," in an accusatory voice.

Tom's whole face was scarlet. "Umm…I don't…I am not," he said without conviction.

"Yes, you are," she accused, turning and stalking off toward the library. Tom ran after her. "_Why am I doing this?" _he wondered. "_And how can someone so short move so fast without running!"_

"Fine," he said. "I was lying. But not about our friendship."

"Then what were you lying about?" Hermione demanded.

Tom brushed his hair out of his face and looked out one of the windows. "I was lying when I called it stupid, it was…nice," he answered distantly.

"Oh." Hermione was shocked. There was no way that he was making this up. Even Tom Riddle couldn't be this good of an actor. "_He would never let himself look this silly on purpose," _she thought, smothering a snort.

"Umm, I've going to go and, er, write letters to Minerva and Louisa," Hermione said suddenly, walking speedily in the opposite direction of the library.

"What are you doing tonight?" Tom called after her.

"My letters are going to be really long, I'll see you tomorrow!"

Tom was left alone in the hallway. He decided that he might as well use his free time to his advantage. He continued on to the library. Madam Ippenbok was sitting at her desk as usual, except perhaps slightly more pleased. After all, she didn't have any students ripping or dirtying her books. Tom walked up to her.

"Could you do a search of Muggle scientific journals from the last ten years for me?" he asked politely.

She glared at him for a moment, before asking what he wanted her to search for in a perturbed tone. This was a very unusual request, though it was openly offered by the Hogwarts library.

"DNA, or deoxyribonucleic acid," Tom said. He had always had a stupendous memory.

"Can you spell that?" she asked seconds later. Tom didn't dignify her question with an answer, mainly because he couldn't.

After a few minutes of turning through gigantic reference books, she found something.

"This is the only article that I've found. I doubt that you'll be able to find anything else on such a Muggle-ish topic." She handed him a card with a title and number on it. "Put that into the book request slot over there," she said, pointing at a slot labeled Ministry of Magic-Muggle Resources Library. "It should come through in a few minutes."

Tom read the card. "_Wonderful, it's in German_."

On the card was written:

TIMOFEEFF-RESSOVSKY, N. W., K. G. ZIMMER, and M. DELBRÜCK, Über die Natur der Genmutation und der Genstruktur: Nachrichten von der Gessellschaft der Wissenschaften zu Göttingen. Biologie. Neue Folge. **1**:189-245.

He put it into the slot and waited. A few minutes later, an article came back through. He sat down to read it. Fifty-six pages later, Tom felt as though his brain had dribbled down his throat. His translation spell had barely helped at all. There were too many untranslatable words. However, he had gotten out of the article that there was no mention of identifying people based on their DNA. Scientists could barely separate it out, let alone get it from a saliva sample. Tom could not think of any possible way for a young witch to know more about DNA than the greatest Muggle scientists in the field. Yet she did and had acted as though it was common knowledge. He would have to ponder this.

True to her word, Hermione wrote letters to Louisa and Minerva, each totaling over five pages. She refrained, however, from telling either of them about the kiss. In the afternoon, she went to the library as she had originally planned. Tom had vacated it twenty minutes earlier, deciding that he had done enough heavy reading for one day, especially for vacation. The two successfully avoided each other for the rest of the day. Hermione used a secret passage to sneak into the kitchen instead of going to the Great Hall for dinner.

The next day at breakfast, two packages arrived for Hermione. They were from Minerva and Louisa. She took them up to her room excitedly. Minerva's gift consisted of a tartan scarf, gloves, and hat, along with a brief note. Hermione was amazed to learn that Minerva had twin eight year-old brothers.

"_No wonder she's so good at frightening the first years!"_ Hermione thought.

Louisa's gift was a bit less practical. She had included about twenty pounds of candies and French pastries, sealed with preserving charms. Underneath was a bottle of firewhiskey. The note with it said:

_Dearest Hermione,_

_Merry Christmas, sorry this is late! I hope you enjoy it. The firewhiskey is for New Year's Eve. Maybe you'll find someone to share it with. I can just imagine your face! Don't spend all of your time studying!_

_Hugs and Kisses, _

_Louisa_

_P.S. Did Tom stay at school for Christmas, too?_

Hermione couldn't restrain a grin. She carefully packed the bottle back into the box. A plan was beginning to form.

Tom spent the rest of the week trying to talk to Hermione while Hermione spent it trying to avoid him, except when they worked on their mirror. By December 31, they had managed to get almost half of the runes inscribed. When they finished their work for the day, Hermione spoke to Tom about something other than their project since their conversation in the hallway.

"So, what are you doing tonight?" she asked innocently.

"Nothing much, probably just staying up 'til midnight, then going to bed."

"Do you want to wait in the clock tower with me?" she asked. "Come on, they won't catch us, and none of the teachers except LeRue would care even if they did," she cajoled.

"All right, what time do you want to meet there?" he agreed.

"How about ten o'clock. Louisa sent me a whole package of candy and pastries, so I'll bring it with."

"Okay, see you in a few hours," Tom said happily. For the first time, he was actually looking forward to New Year's Eve.

Hermione went back to her dormitory to prepare for their solitary party. She dug around in her trunk for the potion she had made that week during her free time. She put a few drops into the firewhiskey, then resealed the bottle. "_This could be a very enlightening evening_," she thought. She had just put Veritaserum into the drink. Not enough to force the drinker to answer everything, just enough to encourage them. Since she knew about it, she would be able to drink it with very little effect. Tom might be influenced enough to say more than he normally would. Of course, the alcohol would help, too.

At promptly ten o'clock, Tom arrived in the clock tower. Hermione was uncharacteristically late. Just as he was about to go look for her, she appeared at the top of the stairs, dragging her bag and a large red comforter.

"I remembered how cold it gets up here and decided that we could use a blanket," she explained.

"Good idea," Tom agreed.

"So, what do you want to do until midnight?" Hermione asked. "I brought cards, pastries, wizarding chess, though I might kill you if you beat me, and last, but not least, _firewhiskey_!" she finished in a stage whisper.

"Is anything left in your dorm room?" Tom asked jokingly.

"Umm, I think I left my bed there, though it might be in my bag," she said with a laugh. She reached into her bag, took out the firewhiskey, cards, and pastries and conjured two shot glasses. Seeing Tom's apprehensive look, she said, "It wouldn't be New Year's without firewhiskey!"

"I don't really like it," Tom admitted.

"You just have to be in the right company. Of course you wouldn't like it if you were drinking it with those stuck-up Slytherins. They probably prefer a good cognac," she joked.

"Fine," he sighed, wondering what he had gotten himself into. Hermione quickly poured them each a glass. They spent nearly an hour playing poker, with the loser of each hand taking a drink from their glass. By the time they got bored, they both were starting to feel quite warm from the firewhiskey.

"Let's play something else now," Hermione suggested jovially. "How about Never Have I Ever?"

"I don't know that game," Tom said.

"Oh, there's nothing to it. We take turns and say 'Never have I ever' then add something that we've never done, like, I don't know, eaten dragon eggs. Every time you've done something, you have to take a drink."

"Who wins?" Tom asked curiously.

"It depends on your point of view, either the person who passes out first or the other person," she said laughing. "You start."

Tom thought for a moment, then smiled.

"Never have I ever…eaten dragon eggs."

"No fair," cried Hermione, taking a sip from her glass.

"You've eaten dragon eggs?" Tom asked incredulously.

"My ex-boyfriend's brother worked with dragons. He brought some home once. They taste like chicken eggs, actually. My turn. Never have I ever seen anything in divination class."

Tom smirked. "Neither have I. Never have I ever had a birthday party."

Hermione took a drink. "When's your birthday?" she asked.

"Today."

"Cheater," she screeched. "This can be a birthday party. You have to take a drink too!"

He capitulated and waited for her next statement.

"Never have I ever…" Hermione tried to say "used an Unforgivable Curse," but the Veritaserum wouldn't let her. She had used _Avada_ _Kedavra_ in the final battle. "_This isn't good_," she thought.

"Never have I ever," she tried again, "abused a house-elf." Tom shook his head.

The game continued, with each trying to come up with more outlandish things. Soon the pastries and firewhiskey were almost gone.

"My turn. Never have I ever _Avada Kedavra-_ed someone." Tom had thought that it was the most unlikely thing for Hermione to have done. He had no idea where his statement would lead.

Hermione turned white. She tried to lie, but couldn't. The Veritaserum was affecting her much more strongly than she had expected. She reached for her glass with trembling fingers. Tom was shocked. He stared at her, mouth open.

"Yes, I've killed someone," she said defiantly. "He killed my friends first," she continued, face contorted by the torturous memory of the masked Death Eater. "So, have you ever killed anyone?" she asked in a strained voice.

Under normal circumstances, Tom would have lied. He maybe could have overpowered the Veritaserum and firewhiskey, but he didn't. He didn't even try. For some reason he wanted Hermione to know about him, things that he had never told anyone. So he answered.

"Yes."

"Who?"

"My father," Tom said, standing and looking out the window at the full moon.

"Why?" Hermione asked.

"I went to his house, his mansion," Tom said in a monotone. "No one noticed me. I went to the dining room. He was sitting there at the table eating. 'Get out or I'll have you thrown out,' he said, not even looking at me. I refused. He stood up and approached me. I was in the shadows, so he couldn't see my face, but I could see his. It was my face, except for the eyes. He was surprised when he finally saw me. 'So you didn't manage to die,' he said. 'If you want money, you're not going to get it from me.' Then he started cursing my mother and me, blaming us for ruining his life. I told him that he had ruined mine far more. He came at me and tried to choke me. I could have gotten away, but I didn't even try. When I at looked at his face, at _my_ face, I wanted to kill him. I wanted it more than anything. He deserved it. He had left us to die, not even giving my mother enough money for food. I barely even cared if I got caught. I was so focused that I almost didn't notice that I couldn't breathe. Right before I would have passed out, there was a flash of green light and he was dead at my feet. I left quickly and never returned. There was no guilt from killing him," he said, astonished at himself for telling her all this.

"I understand," Hermione said, touching his arm. "I didn't feel guilty. And if I ever meet any of the others, I won't feel guilty about killing them either." Hermione was being honest. At this moment, she could not see Tom as Lord Voldemort, even though he admitted to a murder.

"I think that I'm tired of this game," Tom said finally. "Let's just sit here until midnight." They sat down and Hermione draped the blanket around them.

"Hey, when did this turn green?" she asked, trying to lighten the mood with little success.

"I don't know, must have been magic," Tom answered softly.

They waited in silence, strangely comfortable in each other's presence. Before long, the clock started tolling midnight.

"You know what tradition is, don't you?" Tom asked on the eighth toll.

Before Hermione could say anything, he kissed her softly on the lips. The kiss continued until the last chime. Unlike before, neither hurried to look away after they parted. Several moments of silence later, they simultaneously stood up and started gathering up the food and cards. Tom walked Hermione to her room, kissing her on the forehead before leaving. They both fell asleep the instant their heads touched their pillows.

Tom woke up with a pounding headache. Though he wouldn't know, Veritaserum can dramatically worsen a hangover. Light was shining on him through a gap in the curtains. He started to get up to close them, but promptly lay down again and pulled a pillow over his head.

"_I've got a hangover,"_ he thought. "_Tom Marvolo Riddle, Heir of Slytherin, has a hangover." _He lay there a few more minutes, wondering why no one had managed to come up with a good cure for a hangover. After all, people had been getting drunk for millennia. Why hadn't someone invented a potion? It couldn't be that complicated.

Hermione had woken up with a disgusting taste in her mouth and a slight headache. She went over to her trunk and pulled out a small bottle. It had been a gift from Ginny Weasley, who was always trying to convince her to "live a little." Until the past night, Hermione never considered the aftereffects of alcohol worth drinking it. Now, she gladly drank a dose of the potion. She brushed her teeth, got dressed, and went up to the Heads' rooms. Minerva had told her the common room password, so she easily entered.

Tom was still not up and was dreaming lucidly about having a pet snake, trying to ignore his head. It seemed to be pounding more than before. Eventually, he realized that someone else was pounding.

"Come in!" he yelled, head still buried. "Just stop pounding on the door," he added with a mumble.

"Hey, Tom," Hermione said brightly. "Not feeling well? You better get up, everyone will start arriving in about an hour."

"Go away."

"Well, if you don't want any of this potion…" she said, turning to leave the room.

"What potion?" Tom asked intently.

"This potion," she replied, showing him the label.

"Hangover potion" he read. "I don't have a hangover, just a slight headache."

Hermione walked over and threw open his curtains. He flinched and glared accusingly at her, squinting in the light.

"Sure, you don't. Just drink a dose of the potion and quit whining. You're Head Boy, you need to be able to set an example for the younger students, not walk around like the living dead." Hermione was enjoying seeing Tom in the state more than she should have.

"Fine. But it won't work."

"Just drink it!" Hermione said exasperatedly.

Tom took a gulp and made a face. "It's not getting better."

"Give it a minute. You're acting like a two year-old."

Tom was insulted. He hadn't even acted like a two year-old when he was two. He sat on his bed sullenly, pondering her statement. Then he realized that his headache was gone.

"Where did you get that potion?" he asked suddenly.

"A friend gave it to me last year," she replied, smirking.

"Did she make it?"

"No, she bought it at Diagon Alley, I think. She gave one to all of her friends"

"Is it expensive?"

"No, it's cheaper than the firewhiskey you drink to need it."

"I've never heard of it," Tom said.

"Have you ever needed it before?" Hermione asked with an arched brow.

"Not that I can remember."

"Hmmm. You should get dressed now and shower. I can smell you over here," she said with a wrinkled nose. "I think you can handle it by yourself." She walked out of the room and back to her dorm. She needed to clean things up before her roommates returned.

Tom sat on his bed for a moment. "_This makes no sense. No one has invented a real hangover cure, yet her friend bought several of them on Diagon Alley. There is no way that I couldn't know about it. How could Hermione have some?" _Suddenly, DNA came to mind. No one should know as much about it as she did, either.

"_There has to be some explanation,"_ Tom insisted, but none was coming to mind. After a few minutes, he gave up and got ready to welcome back his…

"_Not really friends, more like...lackeys," _he admitted, refusing to feel disappointed about the realities of his situation.

Hermione had actually gone back to the dorm to enter the events of the previous night into her notebook.

"…Tom is starting to trust me," she wrote. "He willingly told me about his father's death without any coercion on my part. Unfortunately, I was forced to tell him about my own actions during the final battle. He does not suspect me of dishonesty in anything. I should be able to use this trust to change him enough to negate his threat in the future. If not, he will be killed. Note: Must find Horcrux diary."

By the time Hermione finished and resealed her journal, students were already arriving. Looking out the window into the courtyard, she saw Minerva, Louisa, and Jason walking through the snow. Hermione ran down to meet them in the entrance hallway.

"I'm so glad you're back," she said, her smile nearly blinding as she hugged Minerva and Louisa.

"We're glad to be back, too," Minerva said. "I was about ready to strangle my siblings," she added dourly.

"I am so glad that I'm an only child," Louisa trilled. "Did you get our presents?" she asked Hermione.

"Yes, I got them the day after Christmas."

"Oh, I was hoping that they would get here on Christmas. The post owls must get Christmas Eve off. I couldn't remember. So, did you like the selection?" Louisa asked, a speculative look on her face.

"Yes, it was very good," Hermione said, reticent to tell Louisa about New Year's Eve. She wasn't even sure if she wanted to tell Minerva.

"Let's get up to the common room," Jason suggested. "It's rather drafty in here."

"Oh, like you'd catch a cold," Louisa said, lightly punching him in the arm. Nevertheless, the quartet began walking in the direction of the Gryffindor Common Room.

Tom Riddle didn't bother to go down to see his "friends," though he did watch for their arrival from his window. He had been planning to schedule a Death Eater meeting that night, but decided that he would give them another day or two of vacation. He took the book Hermione had given him for Christmas off the shelf. He had only managed to get through the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw sections during vacation. He couldn't remember where the time went.

The rest of the day was a flurry of activity, with students talking about their vacations and comparing gifts and giving a few that they had forgotten about before break. Hermione spent most of it up in Minerva's room.

"So, what did you do the whole time?" Minerva asked curiously. "You didn't even have any school work to do?"

"Well, Tom and I worked on our runes project. We're getting really close to finishing."

"What did you do on Christmas?"

"We went to the feast and wandered around the school. Have you ever been to the clock tower?"

"Who is this 'we'?" Minerva asked.

"Oh, Tom and I." Hermione realized what she had said.

"Are you dating now?" Minerva questioned. "I thought you couldn't stand him, you know, he's an evil dark wizard, et cetera,"

"No, we're not dating," Hermione said, blushing. "He was just the only other intelligent person left to talk to."

"Sure. No, I've never been to the clock tower. Too noisy. What's that?" Minerva asked, pointing at Hermione's ring.

"Oh, Tom gave it to me for Christmas. He made it himself from quicksilver and an extra gem we had from our mirror."

"It practically looks like an engagement ring," Minerva snorted.

"It does not," Hermione said, embarrassed.

"What did you give him?"

"Umm…a book about the founders. He really liked it."

"He probably liked it more because of who gave it to him. Don't get angry, but you two seem to have a stronger connection than Louisa's had with all of her boyfriends combined, excluding Jason."

"But he's not my boyfriend," Hermione insisted. "I'm just trying to find out more about him. He was manipulating me the whole time that he was dating Louisa and afterward. He probably falls asleep laughing about it every night." In truth, Hermione was trying to convince herself of this as much as Minerva. She was having more and more trouble thinking of Tom as Lord Voldemort.

"Oh." Minerva quickly changed the subject to her family's Christmas celebration. She didn't want another lecture about how "Tom Riddle is Lucifer reincarnated."

As was his custom, Tom Riddle was eavesdropping outside of Minerva's room, though an observer would think that he was just sitting by the fireplace reading a book. When he heard Hermione's comment, he nearly dropped his book into the fire. If possible, his face became even paler than usual.

"_She knows that I was manipulating her? That means that she has been manipulating me back!" _Tom thought with faint admiration. "_She really should have been placed in Slytherin."_ Then he realized the full meaning of her statement. All of her actions had been calculated to get information from him, from the conversation about the Ministry to telling him about killing someone. "_She was probably lying_," he thought bitterly, though he had a gut feeling that she was telling the truth. He was also becoming suspicious of that firewhiskey. It seemed to have been more potent than it ought to have been, though he had only had glass at the Hogshead once before. He decided that she must have added something to it. Thinking through the events of the evening, he suspected Veritaserum. He hadn't lied the whole time, though he might have been able to if absolutely necessary. It would also explain her reaction to his question about using Avada Kedavra. Trembling is one of the effects of trying to resist Veritaserum, he remembered.

Satisfied that he had figured out most of her plot, he began planning his counterattack. He could use the same technique she had used, pretending to be unaware that he knew that she knew. "_This might even be enjoyable_," he thought, ignoring the slight twinge of emotion that shot through his chest. She had already allowed him to kiss her. It would make everything a lot easier. Tom Riddle was not to be trifled with. He felt no guilt over his plan. He had trusted her, and she had repaid him with duplicity. She deserved it.

AN: I think that the article title roughly translates to "On the Nature of Genetic Mutation and Structure: News from the Society of Science at Göttingen." Even though it was published in 1935, I decided to pretend that it was a new study. I didn't want to try to find any from the forties.


	14. An Apology

Chapter Fourteen - An Apology

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

The next day began with ancient Runes. Tom and Hermione showed Professor LeRue their mirror. She was very impressed with their progress, so impressed that she decided that they didn't need any extra class time for the rest of the year to finish it.

"Today, we will be talking about a new invention from the Ministry and the use of runes in its creation," she said to the class as Tom and Hermione sat down. "It is called a Time-Turner."

Tom glanced at Hermione. She had a slight smirk on her face. He gripped his quill tightly for a moment before relaxing. It would explain everything, her sudden appearance, DNA, hangover potions. It also made him wonder about her concern for his future, trying to convince him to work in the Ministry. Deciding that he had better pretend to pay attention, he refocused on the professor.

"The Time-Turner has a limit of about one week. It is useful because it allows a witch or wizard to be in two places at once, thereby accomplishing twice as much. Theoretically, a student could use a time turner to take two classes at the same time, though that is far in the future."

Tom decided that she definitely already knew about the Time-Turner. Otherwise, she would probably be asking for one so she could spend more time in the library. Professor LeRue spent the rest of the class time drawing out many uncommon and complicated rune patterns on the board, most of which Tom and Hermione had included in their mirror plans. They had all been Hermione's contribution, unsurprisingly.

Tom had a free period between runes and lunch. He went up to his room to think over everything he had learned. There was no way that she had used a Time-Turner, he decided. She was from at least a few years in the future, if not decades. He would have to discover how she had time

-traveled and why if he was to discover how she came by her knowledge of him. Still, even if she was from the future, she should not know about his secrets. If anything, she should know less about them. "_Maybe she knew me in the future_," he thought. "_But why would she immediately hate me?" _He could not think of a reason.

Soon it was time for lunch. Tom was back to sitting with his own house. He smiled at Hermione. She returned his smile, before refocusing on her conversation with Minerva. "_This is going to be fun_," he thought with a smirk.

In potions that afternoon, Slughorn was in an extremely jovial mood. He was having them make Effervescent Elixir, guaranteed to make even the gloomiest soul want to jump up and down and sing the national anthem, or a drinking song. It depended on the personality, Slughorn informed them. Tom successfully avoided testing the finished product and slipped out immediately when class ended. Hermione ended up trying their potion. Of course, it worked splendidly. She began talking about everything she did over break and had just told about the gift that Tom gave her and vice versa when Slughorn gave her the antidote.

"So, Tom gave you that ring? It's a very impressive piece," Slughorn commented. "Reminds me somewhat of my great-grandmother's wedding ring, though it had an emerald instead of moonstone," he added with a wink.

"It's just a ring," Hermione said, blushing. "It doesn't mean anything."

"I'm sure that Tom would be disappointed to hear that, Miss Granger," he said with a chuckle before walking into his office.

That evening, Hermione enchanted her coin to say seven o'clock. She wanted to work on their runes project. Tom got to their work room before her, but had not gotten any of the equipment out. Hermione started setting up, but Tom stopped her.

"Could I please talk to you, Hermione? We don't need to work on the mirror tonight."

"All right, I guess," Hermione agreed, wondering what he had to talk to her about.

"This is difficult to say. I…Merlin, I hate doing this," he mumbled. "I wanted to apologize."

"What for?" asked Hermione, slightly suspicious.

"That's rather hard to explain," he sighed. "I used Louisa to make you feel sorry for me. I'm not used to anyone being my equal, so I thought that if I could manipulate you into being my friend, I could control you. Then I heard Crabbe and Goyle planning to attack you. They said that they were going to Obliviate each other afterward. My stupid house loyalty kept me from saying anything until now. I regretted my decision immediately when I saw what they had done to you, but I still kept silent. After winter break, I decided that I couldn't do it anymore."

"Why not?" Hermione asked, now surprised.

"I think that we have become friends," he said slowly. "I trust you more than I have anyone else in my life. I've told you things about me that no one else knows. I care about you too much to let our entire relationship be built upon deception," Tom concluded.

Hermione was silent for a few moments. "_Is he serious or is this just a new scheme?"_ she wondered. He had told her everything of which she had suspected him, even though he hadn't needed to. She decided to forgive him. After all, she wouldn't be able to find out anything from him if they weren't friends.

"It's all right, Tom. You just proved that we have become friends. You trusted me to forgive you, and I trust your sincerity. Let's forget about it now, okay?"

Tom was impressed with her acting abilities. They rivaled his own. He was blind to the fact that she was actually being honest.

"Thank you, Hermione," he said, gazing into her eyes. "Let's do this tomorrow. We are ahead of schedule on it anyway. Want to go grab a butterbeer from the kitchen?"

"Sure," said Hermione, extremely happy from the turn of events. Tom started down the hallway. "Wait," she said. "I know a better way to get there." She led him the opposite direction toward the Hufflepuff Common Room. Two paintings down was a portrait of a 16th century cook holding a large knife. "Open sesame," she said, pointing her wand at the painting.

"Apparently, Helga Hufflepuff wanted a quick way to get to the kitchen," she said to an astonished Tom, shrugging slightly before stepping through the doorway. They walked down several flights of stairs and down a few hallways before stepping through into the kitchen. The house-elves quickly accommodated them with drinks and doughnuts.

"To friendship," Tom said, clinking their bottles together. After their butterbeer and pastries were gone, Tom walked Hermione back to her common room. He didn't kiss her, only called a happy good night down the hallway over his shoulder. Strangely enough, Hermione felt slightly disappointed.

That night, Tom pondered the last few weeks as he sat in his customary place before the fire. Rationally, he knew his emotions had gotten the best of him, blinding him to Hermione's manipulation and he was determined not to let it happen again, despite the clenching feeling in his chest. He didn't even consider that she might have been lying to Minerva. No one had ever cared for him before, why would Hermione be the first?

* * *

Hermione was conflicted. She was too much a Gryffindor to feel completely at ease about using Tom's affection to get information. Before, she had justified her actions by the fact that Tom had started it. Now, she had no excuse. Hermione came to this conclusion at ten o'clock at night about a week after Tom's apology. Her conscience had begun to prick her. With every moment that passed, her guilt increased logarithmically. By eleven o'clock, Hermione felt that she had no choice other than going to tell Tom immediately. She had tried everything, telling herself that she would get a detention if she was caught, that she needed to set a good example for the younger students, and that she had no business going into the Heads' room at night, even though Minerva had given her the password and told her to come up anytime. Nothing worked. So Hermione climbed out of bed silently, went to her trunk, grabbed the Invisibility Cloak and started to sneaked out of the room.

"_This is probably the stupidest thing that you have done the entire year," _Hermione's practical side said. She ignored it, a very rare occurrence.

She reached the Heads' room without incident, but when she peaked into Tom's room, she started. There was no one there. The bed was still made. Hermione went back into the common room. After a moment, her paranoia and curiosity got the best of her. She pulled the cloak over her head and left the room.

Half an hour later, Hermione had prowled through many of the hallways. The dungeons were the only place left to check. Everything was silent until she reached a heavy wooden door near the Slytherin common room.

The door was closed tightly and only a slight murmur was audible to Hermione. Not willing to let her escapade go to waste, she silently cast a hearing charm, enabling her to make out their words.

"…done well. From now on, you are not to harass or follow the Mudblood unless I specifically order you to. Do not worry about our relationship; there is none, regardless of what the idiots of this school might think."

"Yes, my lord," the group intoned.

"Lord Voldemort, why do you bother with her?" a whiny voice asked.

"Do not question me, Avery" Tom ordered angrily, "lest I decide to make an example of you. My reasons are my own. If you need to know, I will tell you."

"Yes, my lord," Francis Avery replied, cowardice evident in his nasal voice.

"That is all for tonight, Death Eaters. Each of you should leave alone a few minutes apart to avoid being caught."

Hermione scrambled away from the doorway as she heard Tom's footsteps approach. Lacking the time to get farther away without being heard, she flattened herself against the wall across from the door, attempting to breathe silently. The door opened and Tom stepped into the hallway. He began walking toward the Head dormitory, but after a few steps, he paused and drew in a deep breath. He looked behind him for a moment, then continued back to his rooms. Hermione edged away from the door once he was out of sight but didn't have enough time to leave before the first pair of Death Eaters emerged. For the next half hour, Hermione watched silently as Voldemort's followers passed her silently. It was a testament to Tom's control over them, that they didn't even whisper to each other as they waited their turns. Finally, they were gone and the hallway was dark.

It was just after one by the time Hermione arrived back in her dormitory. She crawled into bed, but didn't fall asleep for a long time afterward. She was furious with herself and with Tom. "_No, he is Lord Voldemort_," she corrected herself. "_Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me_," she thought bitterly, remembering the rather stupid quote her father had used whenever she had surprised him. She was determined not to let Tom use her anymore. He was just like Dumbledore had described him to Harry. She couldn't even think of a reason to try to act like she was his friend. "_Dumbledore was right_."

Tom also lay awake in his bedroom. He had thought for an instant that he had caught a familiar scent, freesia perhaps, but he quickly dismissed it. There was no way that Hermione could have found their meeting, let alone been able to hear what had been said. He drifted off to sleep mere minutes after lying down.

The next morning was free for both Tom and Hermione. After breakfast, Tom approached her to propose that they spend the morning working on their mirror.

"Hey Hermione, do you want to work on our runes project now?" he called across the Great Hall. Hermione ignored him and kept walking. Preferring to think that she hadn't heard him over the din in the room, Tom jogged to catch up with her.

"Didn't you hear me?" he asked politely, trying to help her with her overly-full bag.

She jerked it away from him and answered, "I heard you, but I'm busy." With that, she stalked off to Dumbledore's classroom, trying to remember if he had a class this morning.

Tom was shocked. He couldn't think of anything he had done to merit such a brusque response. Though he would never have admitted it, he was somewhat hurt by her sudden change in demeanor. He steeled his emotions and went up to the library, hoping to find something about long-distance time travel now that Slughorn had given him a note for the Restricted Section.

Luckily, Dumbledore was free. She found him sitting in his office behind the Transfiguration classroom reading a handwritten book upside-down. He looked up a moment after she entered and set the text on his desk.

"What can I do for you, Miss Granger?" he asked with a pleased smile. She had been nearly avoiding him for weeks, ever since he had asked her about her newfound friendship with Tom Riddle.

"You were right," she said. "I let my hope blind me to reality."

"What has brought you to this conclusion?" Dumbledore asked, slight surprise evident on his face.

"Tom has been manipulating me from the start," Hermione stated. She went on to tell him everything from Louisa to the Death Eater meeting the previous night, leaving out only their kisses and the Veritaserum in the firewhiskey.

"I was worried about something like this," Dumbledore admitted, "but I didn't think that you wanted to hear my concerns."

"I didn't. I wouldn't have listened anyway."

"I'm am glad that you trust me enough to confide in me. I do not have any suggestions at the moment, other than to try to avoid antagonizing Mr. Riddle. It will do you no good to show him that you don't trust him. Maybe you will be a good influence on him."

"I doubt it," Hermione said pessimistically.

"He might surprise you yet," Dumbledore said optimistically. He then continued. "As you know, I was the first magical person that Tom Riddle met. From the beginning, he was very mistrustful, believing that he could rely on no one except himself. He has carried this trait his whole life, the result of being abandoned to people who didn't understand him or care about him. You will never succeed if he has the slightest trace of mistrust. It is very possible that he has some idea about your own machinations. It is of the utmost importance that you put his fears about your motivations to rest."

"So I should apologize to him like he did to me?" she asked incredulously.

"Yes, and furthermore, do not bother trying to find out more about his covert activities. I will keep an eye on him, though I doubt he would try anything dangerous this close to his graduation. Right now, fighting him is not your burden. Be his friend, show him that he can trust you. "

"All right," Hermione said sarcastically. "I'll be the best friend Tom Riddle has ever dreamed of."

Dumbledore chuckled and waved her out of his office.

Hermione immediately set out for the library, hoping to find Tom there. She needed to apologize for her rudeness earlier. With Tom, one never knew what conclusions he might draw from it. Just as she suspected, he was in the library, perusing a musty book on druidic runes.

Tom had not had much luck with his search, at least, not that he noticed. He had ignored a reference to "stepping through the door and denying fate," having no reason to believe it relevant to Hermione's appearance.

"Hi, Tom," Hermione greeted him, smiling somewhat anxiously.

"Not busy anymore?" he asked snarkily.

"I'm sorry about earlier. Dumbledore wanted to talk to me about the Animagus classes again. I just didn't want to go talk to him, so I took it out on you," she apologized.

"It's all right, I probably would have been irritated too," Tom conceded.

"Umm…I wanted to talk to you about something else," Hermione said cautiously.

"Okay," Tom replied, somewhat confused.

"Could we go somewhere else, please?" Hermione asked.

"Sure, the clock tower?" he suggested.

"That's fine," Hermione said, relieved that he was going along with her request so easily.

They walked in companionable silence up to the tower. When they reached the top, Hermione didn't start speaking for several moments.

"What did you want to talk about?" Tom prodded.

"After you apologized to me for your actions, I felt very guilty," Hermione began, the words flooding out of her like a dam had burst. "I wasn't any better than you, I was maybe even worse. I didn't trust you with Louisa because you were a Slytherin, I did nearly everything that you did. Then on New Year's Eve, I purposely tried to get you drunk to get information and find out if you were being honest with me. It was stupid, I know, but I was afraid that you were manipulating me. I already lost everyone I cared about, I couldn't stand it if you were just using me. Then after you apologized, I felt terrible. You were being honest with me and I was still lying to you!" she finished, out of breath, congratulating herself on not lying at all in her whole speech.

Tom was more shocked than he had ever been, by Hermione at least. He had believed that he had finally figured her out, but then she had to go do something completely unexpected.

Hermione was still standing there motionless, waiting for his reaction. She had no idea what he was thinking. Finally, he began to speak.

Cautiously, as if searching for the right words, Tom said, "I don't see how I could be any less forgiving of your actions than you were of mine. I am a bit surprised; I didn't think a Gryffindor could have it in them." He cracked a slight smile.

"Well, I was almost placed in Slytherin," Hermione replied apologetically.

"I can understand why," Tom answered dryly. Tom was still slightly suspicious of her, though he surmised that her apology had been brought on by rather intense guilt because of his own apology. Nevertheless, he was pleased. His life would be much simpler now that he didn't have to worry about her manipulation.

"Do you want to go back to the library now?" she asked.

"No, I wasn't doing anything important anyway," he shrugged. "Just looking up a few runes."

"In which book?" Hermione asked curiously.

"_Druidic Runes of Britain_," he replied.

"Oh, that one's interesting," she said, going on to tell him her favorite parts of it before he could even respond.

A few minutes later, the clock began to chime.

"Hermione, it's time for lunch now."

"Oh, I didn't realize how long we'd been up here. Let's go," she said distantly.

They strolled leisurely to the Great Hall, ignoring all the curious stares, Hermione obliviously and Tom purposefully. They went their separate ways to eat, but Hermione went over to Tom after she finished eating. He had often come to the Gryffindor table, but Hermione had never ventured over to his. This was a good a way as any to begin an honest friendship. Tom realized her goal immediately when she stood from her table and surreptitiously cleared his books from the space next to him. Hermione looked relieved as she sat down. Then a momentary look of confusion formed.

"Is there a reason for your interhouse movement?" Tom asked, enjoying her bewilderment.

"Umm…" she said, trying to come up with a reason. After a moment, her face brightened. "I was wondering if you found anything in that book that we could use for our mirror," she replied, quite pleased with herself.

"There were a few," Tom answered, "but we would need to research them more before we decide to use them."

"Yes, we do," Hermione said, running out of things to add to their conversation. Tom, though he was enjoying her discomfort, took pity on her.

"So, when do you want to work on it again?" he prodded her.

"Are you free after Transfiguration tomorrow afternoon?"

"Yes, it's not like I have a social life," he joked.

"Compared to me you do," Hermione grumbled.

"You're my only social life, so I don't see how yours could be worse," he pointed out with a smirk, waiting in anticipation for her reaction.

She frowned for a moment as she remembered his social life from the previous night, but quickly covered it and smirked in return. "Well, for you, socializing with me is a step up, but I am forced to lower myself to the level of a Slytherin."

Tom gaped at her, then burst out laughing, garnering the attention of everyone at the Slytherin and Gryffindor tables. "But I didn't see anyone forcing you to sit over here. Maybe you feel a connection to your less valorous peers," he suggested after he stopped laughing.

"I'm very sure that you used the Imperius Curse on me," she retorted snippily with a superior air before cracking a light-hearted smile.

"I don't need to _Imperio_ you," Tom insisted. "You are already under my control; you just don't know it yet."

"Whatever you say, Tom," Hermione responded dismissively. "Lunch is almost over, we had better get to Arithmancy."

"All right," Tom said, grabbing his bag and Hermione's. He was nearly pulled off balance, but quickly charmed her bag to feel weightless, saving his masculine pride.

That evening, Hermione decided to stay in the dormitory and study. The common room was filled with students for no apparent reason, and she had learned years earlier that the results were not worth trying to get them quiet enough for her to concentrate. She was succeeding admirably with her Arithmancy homework until Louisa bounced in.

"Hi Hermione! I was just looking for you!" she squealed.

"Joy," Hermione muttered subaudibly.

"What?" Louisa asked curiously.

"Nothing."

"I wanted to talk to you about Tom," Louisa stated.

"What about him?" Hermione questioned cautiously.

"I just wanted to tell you that other than Jason, you couldn't have picked a better boyfriend."

"He's is not my boyfriend," Hermione said emphatically.

"Really?" she replied, surprised. "You two always sit together at meals and Minerva and I have barely seen you outside of classes for weeks, you're always working on your project together. Though I don't think that anyone could spend as much time on one project as you two seem to," she added with a giggle.

"It is a very difficult and time-consuming project," Hermione said long-sufferingly.

"Oh, I remember what else I was going to tell you now," Louisa interjected. "Today in divination, we worked on advanced chiromancy. I wanted to try on you if it's all right."

"Why not," Hermione sighed.

"Oh good!" Louisa jumped on Hermione's bed and grabbed her hand.

"Hmmm, your heart line is very strong, I would say that you have a very good chance of finding a true love," she began excitedly. "Your head line is also strong, though that's not very surprising. Your life line indicates good health, but you have several shallow spots. You have been in or will be in physical and emotional danger. Wow, your fate line is strange. I don't know how to interpret it, other than that fate has a powerful influence on you. But there is a break right in the middle, I'll need to look that up. What else," she wondered aloud. "Oh, the Girdle of Venus. You are very good at manipulating people, but your conscience sometimes gets in the way."

Hermione had had enough of Louisa's hocus-pocus. She started to pull her hand away.

"Just wait, I'm almost finished," Louisa ordered, grabbing Hermione's hand again. "I just have to look at the union and travel lines. Let's see, you have four union lines, but three of them are very faint, only one is a long-lasting relationship. Your travel lines…that's odd. You have several, but this one is longer than any I've ever seen, even in my diagrams. You have made or will make a _very_ long journey." She paused for a moment then spoke again. "I don't see anything else strange on your hand. Maybe I'll learn more tomorrow. Thanks Hermione, you were a very interesting subject." Louisa bounced back out of the dormitory, probably looking for a new victim, leaving Hermione to think about what Louisa had told her.


	15. First Date

Chapter Sixteen – First Date

Disclaimer: I don't own Hermione Granger, Tom Riddle, Dumbledore, etc.

AN: Quite a bit of revision in the last chapter, you should a least skim through it, and a super-long chapter today. Reviews would be nice...

* * *

The next day went very smoothly for everyone, though Hermione was still pondering Louisa's divination skills. She was very skeptical, but a few of Louisa's comment seemed uncannily accurate. After Transfigurations, Hermione waited in the hallway for Tom, then walked up to the library with him to research runes for their mirror.

"So, were there any runes in particular that you wanted to use?" she asked Tom as they walked.

"A few. There was also one that looked similar to runes for fate and destiny but didn't have a clear translation. Maybe you'll know it," he replied, referring to the rune only found on the portal.

"I might, but don't get your hopes up," she admitted. "Even though I've read that book, doesn't mean I understand it all."

"Wait, could you repeat that?" Tom asked, smirking. "I thought I heard you say that you didn't understand something."

"Oh, shut up," she said, irritation evident as she sped up, reaching the library several steps ahead of him. Tom smirked at her back, extremely pleased with himself.

Tom went into the restricted section to get the runes book he had been reading the day before while Hermione spread their notes out on one of the tables.

"Here it is," he said when he returned, pointing to a rune in the book. "It doesn't say anything except that it is used in some Portal of Thwarted Fate, which I've never heard of. I'll go ask Madam Ippenbok," he said, leaving Hermione staring after him with a pale countenance. She watched him converse with the librarian, then come back with a peice of paper.

"These are all the books in the library that mention it. Do you want to help me find them, or do you want to look for other runes to use?"

"I'll look at other runes," Hermione said. She hoped that he would just drop his interest in the portal. Even though there wasn't much information on it, she didn't want him to start getting ideas about it. She had no such luck. Tom disappeared into the stacks before she could say anything else. Hermione browsed through the various papers on the table, watching furtively as Tom ambled through the shelves. After several minutes, she stood up and went to find him. He was standing in front of the shelf with books on chimera Animagus forms. She was suddenly filled with dread.

"What are you looking for?" she asked in a neutral tone.

"The list says that there is a book here entitled _Obscure Forces of Destiny_, but I don't see it. Sounds like a fake anyway, maybe some of the others will be helpful," he added dismissively.

"There must be a mistake," Hermione agreed, hoping that he wouldn't see through her lie or the ridiculous books in front of the one he was searching for.

"It's odd, though," he continued. "I didn't think that it was possible for the card system to make mistakes." Hermione merely shrugged in response, and walked into the next aisle. When she heard Tom walk away toward their table, she quickly went back to the shelf in the restricted section. Hermione peeked back behind the other books and saw the book Tom had been looking for. She moved to grab it, but Tom reappeared around the end of the bookshelf.

"Did you find it?" he asked.

"Nope," she replied, "I was just looking at this book on chimera forms."

Tom grimaced. "I'll leave you to it. I found another book that gives more definitions for the rune, though it only has a few pages on the portal, _The Concise Encyclopædia of Fatefull Spells, Potions, and Other Miscellaneous Magickal Means, _by Ulphus Opsilin."

Hermione walked back over to their table and began shuffling parchment back and forth, trying to look like she was working. Tom came over, reading as he walked and reaching blindly for a chair. Feeling slightly mischievous, Hermione magically pushed the chair back a few extra inches, stifling a snort of laughter when Tom landed on the floor with a thud. He glared at her a moment before refocusing on his book. He soon found the section on the portal.

"I found it," he said excitedly, causing Hermione to cringe. "It says, 'This portal was created by the druids of the British Isles hundreds of years before the Roman conquest. It was lost during the invasion and has since only been heard of in rumors and far-fetched stories.' It goes on to talk about all of the runes specifically. The one in the book on druidic runes means "strength of fate" approximately. The author, whoever they were, says that it is more accurately translated as 'the amount of power exerted on a being by fate' or 'the ability of a person to act outside of fate,' very odd translations, they almost seem to be contradictory. But it says that it is a very powerful rune. Either way, it would be useful on our mirror, don't you think?"

Hermione hadn't heard Tom speak so much at once the whole year. Her slight astonishment coupled with her nervousness about what he might learn from the book caused her to look up at him as though she didn't have the slightest idea about what he had just said.

"Uhh, sure."

"You weren't even paying attention," Tom accused light-heartedly.

"Yes, I was," she said, rousing herself to answer his statement. "You were talking about the different translations of that rune and how you think we should use it."

"So what do you think?" he asked again.

"It might change the focus of the mirror a little bit, but it would definitely make it more powerful and should cause the clarity of a person's vision to vary depending on the probability, which would more than make up for it."

"Good. I think I'll read through this whole book, too, just in case there are more runes that we want to use. It looks like most of the topics would go along well with our project."

"Fine," Hermione agreed. There was no way she would be able to get it away from him now, so she didn't want to make him suspicious about why she didn't want him to read it. Tom went back to perusing the book, seemingly oblivious to Hermione's growing discontent. Finally, she let out a loud sigh, gathered her things, and began to walk out of the library.

"Wait up," Tom called, appearing at her side. "I'll walk you back to your dorm."

She stood still while he went back to the table to bet his bag and his new stack of reading material. He continued to talk animatedly about all the things they could do with their mirror until they reached the Fat Lady's portrait.

"Can we meet again tomorrow after potions?" Tom asked as she went through the portrait hole.

"I was going to study Defense Against the Dark Arts with Minerva," Hermione responded, vaguely remembering Minerva asking her about it the day before.

"What about Friday in the morning? We don't have any classes," he suggested.

"That should be fine," Hermione agreed listlessly.

"Are you all right?" Tom asked, concern evident in his voice. "You seem upset about something."

"I'm just tired," Hermione said truthfully. All of this acting and second-guessing was very tiring.

"Well, don't study too much," Tom said. "I don't want to have to study more to keep tied with you in all our classes," he added jokingly.

"Don't worry about it, I'll wait until finals to ruin the curve," Hermione replied sweetly.

"How thoughtful of you," Tom said with mock enthusiasm. He kissed her quickly on the lips and sauntered off down the hall.

Hermione was slightly confused. He hadn't kissed her since New Year's Eve when they were both at least partially drunk. She had thought that they were back to friends only, especially after their admittances of complete dishonesty. Apparently, she had been wrong. Resolving not to think about it, she plopped down on a cushion in front of the common room fireplace to write in her journal. It had been several weeks since she had even opened it. She paged through it quickly, skimming over what she had written until she reached the first blank page. She shook her head at how badly her plan had worked out. Other than learning about the Death Eaters and his father, she barely knew anything more about Tom than she had after her first day in 1944. She began writing a new entry,

"Operation Phoenix has failed and is done. My main goal will now be building trust in order to influence his decisions in the future. Right now, I have no idea what to do." That was all she could think of to write. By now, she had completely forgotten about going to get _Obscure Forces of Destiny _from the library.

Up in his room, Tom was intently reading the book he had found in the library. It was fascinating reading. Many of the casting techniques and runes described in it were immensely powerful and enabled a witch or wizard to see the future without being gifted in divination. The only exceptions to this rule were a potion that would make one dream of one's true love and the Portal of Thwarted Fate, which allowed a person to completely escape whatever hand fate had dealt them and start over. He was intrigued by the second idea, though the first caught his interest for a moment also. He decided to pursue both once Hermione and he were closer to finishing their mirror, which in his estimation, ought to be done in less than a month, giving him plenty of time before the end of the school year.

Tom took a break from reading after a few hours. He began thinking about his relationship with Hermione. He was still having trouble keeping his plan and feelings separate. He couldn't risk letting his emotions get in the way finding out how she got to 1944. It could be very important to his future. Yet, though he knew that he should approach this logically, seeing her laugh or glare made him forget everything else.

'_What is wrong with me?' _he asked himself with great irritation. He needed to stick to his plan, not forget about it. He soon went back to his book, not wanting to even think about Hermione.

The rest of the week passed quickly. On Friday, Tom and Hermione worked on the mirror all morning, getting many of the remaining runes placed. When they finished, they were sweating from the heat of melting the metal for the runes.

"I think we both need to go bathe," Hermione said, sniffing the air.

"Maybe you do," Tom joked.

"And that's why your hair looks like you went swimming?"

"It's not that bad," Tom protested, pretending to be offended. When Hermione continued to glare at him, he sighed. "You're probably right." She grinned.

"Of course I am," she retorted, gathering her things from their workroom. Tom, being the gentlemanly sort, carried her bag to the Gryffindor common room. He hesitated before giving it to her.

"Umm, Hermione?"

"What?" she asked exasperatedly. She really wanted to take a bath. Hermione hated being dirty.

Tom felt a twinge of nervousness. This was not a good idea. "_Too late to quit now,"_ he thought. He gathered his courage and spoke.

"I was wondering if you wanted to go to Hogsmeade with me tomorrow, if you're not busy that it," he added hurriedly.

"Like a date?" she asked curiously. Tom nearly groaned. "_Why did she have to ask that?"_

"Yes, like a date," Tom said decisively after a split second.

"Oh," Hermione said, blushing slightly and looking at the air over his shoulder. She was so intent for a moment that Tom nearly turned around to see what she was looking at. Suddenly, her gaze focused intensely on him.

"Okay, what time should I be ready?"

Tom was astonished that she had agreed. He had been prepared to ask multiple times over several weeks and she agreed to go on the first try. He hadn't even thought about a time.

"How about ten o'clock?"

"Okay, I'll wait in the common room. See you in runes this afternoon," she called as she closed the portrait hole.

Tom walked up to his rooms in a gleeful daze. "_She actually agreed to go on a date with me! Of course, she would have to be stupid not to," _he thought. He couldn't allow himself to admit that he was actually happy about the date, not the success of his plan. He began thinking about what to do for their date and the next stage of his plan.

* * *

Tom woke up with a clear purpose. He was going to make this a date against which Hermione would compare all others. He had planned everything down to the minute, with adjustable times built in to allow for every unplanned occurrence. After all, he was a Slytherin. At ten o'clock, he arrived at the Gryffindor common room. A few minutes later, Hermione barreled through the portrait hole.

"Sorry I'm late" she gasped. She had obviously sprinted down from her room.

"Don't worry about it," Tom said. "Are you ready? Don't you need your cloak?" Hermione had forgotten to grab it in her rush to get down to the door.

"Oh, yes! I completely forgot! Just a minute!" She scurried back up to her dorm, leaving Tom with a slightly bemused expression. He had never seen her so flustered.

Upon reaching her dorm, Hermione rifled through her trunk for her cloak, once accidently grabbing her invisibility cloak, causing her to look around furtively to make sure that all of her roommates were asleep. Just as she was about to leave for the second time that morning, Louisa called out groggily, "Where are you going Hermione? It's only ten o'clock."

"I'm going to Hogsmeade."

"What for?"Louisa asked.

"Nothing much, just a way to spend the day," Hermione replied cagily, edging toward the door.

"Ooooh! You have a date!" she squealed. "I knew it! Who are you going with? I bet you're going with Tom, aren't you?"

Hermione hesitated for a split second, long enough for Louisa to come to the right conclusion.

"You are! I told Jason that you would be dating him soon, but he didn't believe me! Now he has to take me to Madam Puddifoot's for Valentine's Day." She jumped out of bed, threw on a robe, and ran down to the common room to try to find him, leaving Hermione trailing along behind her, having found her cloak during Louisa's monologue.

Tom was waiting rather impatiently, but when Hermione appeared through the portrait hole, he pasted a smile on his face that wasn't completely false. He was looking forward to their date.

"Okay, I'm ready," Hermione said when she arrived.

They strolled through the castle and down the hill to Hogsmeade.

"So, what are we doing today?" Hermione asked curiously.

"It's a surprise," Tom replied.

"Please, at least give me a hint," Hermione ordered.

"Nope," he said, a bright smile on his face.

"Tell me."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"No."

"Ye..No. Now be quiet."

"You aren't a very nice date, are you?" Hermione complained, obviously a bit miffed.

"I wouldn't know, you're the first one real one I've ever had."

"Louisa didn't count?" Hermione asked, feeling for some odd reason that this was actually a very important question.

"No, she didn't. You are officially my first date."

"So what do you have planned for this first date?" Hermione asked, hoping that he would cave in and tell her.

"You'll see. We're almost there now," he said pointing to a large frozen pond with large snow drifts around it.

"What are we doing there?"

"_Accio_ ice skates," Tom said. A large bag flew toward them from behind a pile of snow. Tom opened it and handed a pair to Hermione.

"I haven't been ice skating in years, not since my parents took me to the rink before I started school," Hermione exclaimed.

"When I first came to Hogwarts, I would sneak out and come here to skate at night. Someone had donated an old pair of skates to the orphanage that we took turns using during the winter before I came to Hogwarts. A few years ago, I was allowed to work in the summer, so I used my wages to buy my own. I conjured your skates in the same pattern except smaller and white instead of black."

"This is perfect!" Hermione said excitedly, plopping down on a snow bank, pulling off her shoes, and putting on the skates. After pulling at the laces for a few minutes, she finally asked for Tom's help. He already had his skates on.

"Could you pull the laces tighter for me?" she asked, somewhat embarrassed.

"Of course," Tom replied before kneeling and tying her skates for her.

"Thanks."

"Well, what kind of gentleman would I be if I didn't help such a charming woman with her ice skates?"

"A very bad one," Hermione said laughingly, stepping onto the ice, Tom following close behind just in case she fell.

It took only minutes before Hermione was skating just like she used to. She had skated regularly before attending Hogwarts, even taking a few lessons, though she never progressed much beyond spins and footwork. Tom noticed her above-average skill.

"You've had skating lessons?" he asked curiously.

"Only for a few years before I began attending school," Hermione said, belatedly realizing her mistake.

"I thought that you were tutored before coming here," Tom said.

"I was," Hermione hurriedly replied. "But only in magic. I studied at a Muggle school. My parents thought that I ought to continue my studies in case I decided to live in the Muggle world after graduation. At the time, we didn't know much about magic anyway, so I didn't think it was that unusual," she finished, pleased with her very convincing lie.

Unfortunately, it wasn't quite convincing enough. Tom had seen the slight hesitation and noticed her sudden rush of words, revealing her slight discomfort. He decided not to push her. It would be better to wait until she freely told him about her life than to try to force her to speak about it. After all, Tom had learned that force rarely had the desired effect when dealing with Hermione Granger. Tom reached out and took hold of her hands a skated backwards across the pond, spinning them both around slowly. They continued like this for several minutes before Hermione lightly tugged her hands away.

"I'm getting cold," she stated.

"All right, it's nearly time for lunch anyway," Tom replied, helping her over to the edge of the pond.

They removed their skates, which Tom placed in his bag and slung over his shoulder. Tom led her back into Hogsmeade and toward the Leaky Cauldron. Hermione sat down and rubbed her hands together quickly, trying to warm them. Tom reached across their table and grabbed them gently, beginning to rub them for her.

"Your hands are cold," he said.

"Yes."

Tom whispered a spell and Hermione's hands immediately felt as though they were surrounded by a cloud of warm, dry air, mainly because they were.

"Where did you learn that spell?" she asked curiously.

"I made it up," Tom replied with a small smile.

"What's the incantation?" she questioned him.

"I don't want to become dispensable," he joked. "I don't think I ought to tell you," he added with a smirk.

"Please," Hermione pleaded, looking at him from under her lashes.

"Don't even bother," he laughed, "I'm just as stubborn as you are. Invent your own."

"Fine," Hermione huffed, turning to look out the window. She ignored him until the waitress came to take their orders. She was tempted to order the most expensive thing on the menu, but decided that his offense was not that serious. However, she remained silent once the waitress left, deciding to let him suffer a bit longer, lest he mistakenly think that he was in control of their relationship. Tom knew what she was doing. She was trying to irritate him, to force him to beg. Disturbingly, he soon realized, it was working. This was not right.

"_How is she doing this?" _he wondered incredulously.

After several minutes of complete silence, he broke. "I planned on going to the bookstore for a few minutes after lunch," he said as a peace offering.

"Really?" she responded. "I need to go there, too. What are you planning on getting?"

"I don't know, I thought I would just look around a bit," he said. Until their food arrived, they continued their conversation on books, bookstores, and all things school related. They ate leisurely, Hermione happily eating her chicken and wild rice as Tom neatly consumed a well-done steak. Most Hogwarts students didn't even know that the Leaky Cauldron served anything other than butterbeer and fish and chips, with the occasional haggis, depending on the time of year. The couple finished their food. Tom paid and left a tip, then helped Hermione into her cloak.

Once again, she found herself comparing him to her previous friends and boyfriends, and once again, she found that he outdid them in every aspect. Feeling an urge to change her mental progression as they walked down the street, she said out loud, "When do you want to work on our mirror next?" It had not even entered her thoughts that day, but she was searching for anything to say that wouldn't make her sound idiotic or lunatic. Tom decided to let her get away with such a neutral topic and responded accordingly.

"I'm not doing anything tomorrow afternoon after dinner. What about you?"

"That should be fine. How long do you think it will take us to finish?" she asked. "Because with job applications and exams coming up we aren't going to have as much time to work on it as we have so far."

"Exams are still months away," he said, "and most students don't have their applications filled out until after graduation."

"Well, it's never too early to start planning," Hermione retorted before cringing at her prefect voice.

"Yes, right now is too early," Tom laughed as he appraised her contorted face. "Come on, I need a new book," he added, tugging her into the dingy bookstore.

They wandered around the store for a quarter of an hour before coincidentally meeting up on the narrow spiral staircase in the center.

"Find anything yet?" Tom asked curiously.

"Nope. What about you?"

"Nothing, but I have an idea," he said grandiosely.

"And what, pray tell, might that be?" she asked with a sarcastic smile.

"I shall find a book for you, fair maiden, and you may repay my valiant efforts by doing the same for me."

"Why not?" Hermione laughed. "But you have to get whatever I pick out," she called over her shoulder as she disappeared behind a bookshelf.

Nearly an hour later, they met at the entrance with their selections hidden behind their backs.

"Ladies first," Tom said with a smirk. Hermione pulled the book out from behind her and Tom's smirk fell. It was a huge, torn, and stained book entitled _Famous Oriental Animagi of the Second Millennium_, written in 1836. It had been in a bargain stack, and based on the dust covering it, Hermione guessed that it had been there at least half a century.

"Don't worry," she consoled him. "It's a very cheap book."

"Obviously," Tom replied sourly. His smirk returned, however, as he brought his own selection out for her to see.

"_Uses of Snakes in the Magical Arts_," she read out loud.

It looked very similar to the other book, though the stains appeared bloodier. A look of disgust appeared on Hermione's face for a split second. Both inwardly groaning, they paid for their books and left.

"What would you like to do now?" Tom asked politely.

"Well," Hermione said, "I had been planning on going shopping for some new dress robes today, but if you don't want to, I can go next weekend." The acquiescence in her voice made Tom feel slightly guilty, a feeling to which he was not accustomed, so he nodded his head a steered her toward Gladrags with a long-suffering sigh. Another hour later, Hermione walked out of the shop with only a new pair of socks, Tom trailing along behind. Actually, it had not been as bad as he had anticipated, but there was no way that he would let Hermione know that.

"What time is it?" Hermione asked.

"About four o'clock. Time for afternoon tea," he answered.

"I have the perfect place in mind," Hermione replied innocently. She grabbed his hand and dragged him through Hogsmeade. Soon, they arrived that the place Tom had sworn never to enter: Madam Puddifoot's.

"You can't be serious," he moaned.

"Oh, but I am," Hermione answered with an evil grin, pulling him inside. The interior of the tea shop was decorated with icicles and winter fairies, though the temperature was very comfortable. The instant they sat down, a small, sprightly woman appeared next to them.

"What would you like, dears?" she asked with a nearly maniacal grin.

"A second-flush Darjeeling and scones, please," Hermione said before Tom could open his mouth. She stifled a snicker at his expression.

"Close your mouth, something might fly in," she suggested with a wicked smirk. Tom's mouth snapped shut. His ears grew red for a moment, but he calmed himself. When their tea and scones arrived, Tom occupied himself with arranging the jam and cream precisely on each half. However, once this was accomplished, he ate quickly, bordering on rudeness. Hermione noticed him glancing toward the door nervously every so often.

"Looking for someone?" she asked."No, just checking...never mind," he said.

"All right. I'm almost done," she said, gesturing at her scone, which was half-way eaten. She was savouring every bite. Though the Hogwarts food was good, it wasn't this good. She did know that he probably didn't want to be seen in Madam Puddifoot's, but she didn't really care at the moment.

When she was finished, Tom paid the bill and they walked back up the hill to Hogwarts. Tom carried their purchases up to the door of the Gryffindor common room. He set her things down.

"I had a wonderful time today," Hermione said as she opened the portrait.

"So did I," Tom agreed. "I have to admit that I didn't really expect to."

"Why not?" Hermione asked curiously.

"Well, Louisa wasn't that interesting and she talked way too much for my taste," he said covertly.

"I could understand that," Hermione laughed. "I'll see you tomorrow," she added as she turned to walk through the portrait hole.

"Wait," Tom said suddenly. When she turned to look at him, he stepped close to her. He gazed at her for a moment, then leaned forward and kissed her, his arms coming around her waist. Hermione's hands crept around his neck, occasionally grazing his raven hair. Neither knew quite how long it lasted, but it couldn't have been terribly long because they jumped apart upon hearing Louisa's characteristic shriek.

"Oooo, I knew it, I knew it, I knew it! Jason owes me a date at Madam Puddifoot's now! Thanks Hermione!" she called as she ran through the portrait past Hermione, obviously in search of her boyfriend. Tom looked after her sourly.

"Well, it could have been worse," Hermione said.

"Not by much."

Hermione stood on her toes and kissed him on the cheek. "Bye," she said over her shoulder.

"Good night," Tom replied to the closed portrait.

"Good night to you, too," the Fat Lady said. Tom picked up his things, glaring at the large bag containing the Animagus book, and walked up to his rooms, contemplating the events of the day. He reached his room and sat down in his customary chair in front of the fireplace. Realizing that he had absolutely nothing to do, he pulled out the book Hermione had gotten him, sighed, and started to read.


	16. Vision of the Future

Chapter 16 - Vision of the Future

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters found in the Harry Potter series of J.K. Rowling. Nor do I own the title to a certain expanded universe SW book.

Much to his surprise, _Famous Oriental Animagi of the Second Millennium _was a fascinating read. Many of the Animagi described were the only wizards to ever attain their forms, including a dolphin, a panda bear, and even a demiguise. Unfortunately, that particular wizard had changed forms and disappeared, never to be seen again. However, the most fascinating case was that of a witch who created a chimerical form, drawing on characteristics of dragons, cats, horses, and snakes. In her diary, she was quoted as saying, "My Animagi form allows me to take advantage of the strengths of several animals and the weaknesses of none."

Tom was very interested. He determined that he would like to learn more about this peculiar kind of transformation, though he would never use it himself, and went to the library. As he walked, he thought about the possibilities intrinsic in a chimera Animagus form. He walked through the library on autopilot, stopping in front of the shelf that he had searched two days earlier. He pulled several of the books on the subject off the shelf. Immediately, a small, worn book fell to the ground in front of him. It was _Obscure Forces of Destiny_. Tom was elated, thinking of how useful it could be for their Ancient Runes project. Reshelving the book on chimera, he took it and hurried back up to his room, ensconcing himself back in his chair in front of the fireplace.

After only a few pages, Tom was sure that this was the answer he had been looking for. The Portal of Thwarted Fate completely explained Hermione's mysterious appearance and seemed likely, based on a few of her comments about her past and the fact that she had needed to use the killing curse.

Tom continued reading the section on the portal. Unfortunately, the further he read the more questions he found. He did not know why she had come to this particular time, or if there even was a reason. He still didn't know what time she had come from. He also had no idea if she had known him in the future, something he had suspected based on her knowledge of him. The only thing he did learn was that Hermione must have been in a situation that had no chance of improving. Tom continued reading late into the night, studying the book carefully.

After their date, Hermione had retired to her dormitory for a relaxing evening of Arithmancy problems, frequently interspersed with daydreams about her date with Tom. She had continued in this manner for the better part of two hours. At this point, Louisa entered the room.

"Hermione! You absolutely have to tell me everything about your date!" she squealed.

"Umm, what do you want to know?" Hermione asked uncomfortably.

"Everything!"

"Well," Hermione said reticently, "first, we went ice skating, then-"

"Oooh, that's so romantic! Is he a good skater?"

"Yes, quite good," Hermione replied. "When we stopped, it was time for lunch, so we went to the Leaky Cauldron. Afterwards, we went to that old antique bookstore and picked out books for each other."

"What did he get you?" Louisa asked curiously.

"_Uses of Snakes in the Magical Arts_, I'm sure it will be quite interesting," Hermione said, though she was somewhat doubtful about the truth of her last statement.

"Sure," Louisa said skeptically.

"It was mostly a joke," Hermione said defensively. "I picked out a book on Oriental Animagi for him."

"You are definitely better-suited for Tom than I was," Louisa snorted.

"Well, you are much better for Jason than I would have been," Hermione admitted.

"Of course I am!" Louisa affirmed. "I saw in my crystal ball that we are destined for each other!"

"Really?" Hermione asked with mock enthusiasm, which Louisa completely missed.

"Really," Louisa affirmed giddily.

"Did you see anything about me?" Hermione asked, rolling her eyes when Louisa glanced away from her.

"I might have," Louisa admitted, "but I didn't want to tell you because I'm not positive that it was even you."

"Well, you can tell me anyway," Hermione said in a commanding tone.

"All right," Louisa sighed. "I saw you and Tom standing in front of a mirror, arguing. It didn't make much sense."

"That's all?" Hermione asked.

"That's everything."

"Oh. Well, it was probably nothing," Hermione assured her friend.

"Probably." Then with one of her famous mood changes, Louisa brightened. "Jason was so upset when I told him that I won our bet. He _hates_ Madam Puddifoot's more than anything. I've been trying to get him to take me there for Valentine's Day for weeks. Now he has to go!" she crowed gleefully. "Do you know what Tom is planning for Valentine's Day?"

"I hadn't even thought about it," Hermione said thoughtfully. "I should probably mention it to him."

"Yes, you should," Louisa agreed knowingly. "Sometimes they completely forget about it and try to conjure up a bouquet of orchids, only to have them smell like dirty socks. Of course, I'm sure that Tom wouldn't have any trouble with that," she added hurriedly. "Oh," she exclaimed after an awkward moment. "I completely forgot about my divination essay that's due tomorrow. I have to go to the library. Bye!" she called as she rushed out of the room.

Hermione thought about Louisa's prediction for a moment, then dismissed it. Arguments were inevitable in any relationship and the fact that he walked away instead of _Avada Kedavra_-ing her was reassuring. She went to bed soon after.

The next morning found Tom in a foul mood. He had been awakened at six o'clock by some first years having a snowball fight outside of his window. He had absolutely no idea what had driven them to be up so early on a Sunday morning, but he didn't particularly care either. A well-placed warming charm at the general area below solved that problem (and the sight of several students standing ankle-deep in water amused him), but he was unable to get back to sleep. Normally, this would not have been a problem. However, Tom had stayed up reading until almost three o'clock; hence, he was in an extremely foul mood. He stubbornly laid in bed for another hour and a half, before he gave in and got up. After a quick bath, he went down to the Great Hall for an early breakfast.

Not surprisingly, Hermione was already there, happily munching on eggs, sausage, and toast as she read through the weekend edition of the daily prophet. Tom plopped down next to her and began piling food on his plate.

"Good morning," Hermione said cheerfully, not looking up and thereby missing his irritated expression.

"Morning," Tom grunted in reply.

"Well, aren't we just a ray of sunshine this morning," Hermione quipped.

"Quite," Tom mumbled around a bite of toast.

"I don't have anything to do this morning," she said after a moment. "Do you want to start work right after breakfast? We might be able to finish everything," she said excitedly.

"Why not," Tom agreed. He didn't have anything else to do anyway.

"Good. Once we finish, we will be able to start working on N.E.W.T. preparations."

"Wonderful," Tom deadpanned. Once again, Hermione missed his sarcasm.

"Okay, I'm done," she said, standing and picking up her bag. "I'll go to the workroom and get everything set up so we can start right away when you get there."

"Fine." It was now just eight o'clock. Tom finished his breakfast in a few minutes and went down to their workroom. There was not much left to do. They only had about ten runes left to set and the sealing charm to cast.

By lunch they had all but two of the runes placed. By dinner, the runes were finished and and they only had to wait for the metal to cool before they cast the final spell. After dinner, they returned to the room. Over dinner, they had decided to cast the spell together to make it stronger.

"I'm so excited!" Hermione exclaimed. "We are almost finished and it has only been five months!"

"Professor LeRue ought to be pleased," Tom agreed calmly, though he was nearly as excited as Hermione about the completion of their project.

"Are you ready to cast it?" Hermione asked. Tom nodded. Five minutes later, they were finished. The obsidian mirror looked as though water was running over the surface and the runes glowed faintly.

"Do you want to try it?" Hermione asked.

"Why don't you go first," Tom suggested. He didn't want her to see anything about his future.

"All right," Hermione said, picking up the mirror. She backed away from Tom and turned so he couldn't see the mirror. Tom stifled a sigh. After a few minutes, she turned back.

"So, what did you see?" Tom asked.

"Nothing much," Hermione said shakily. "It was just a picture of me with friends at Christmastime." Tom knew that she was lying, but decided not to press her. He would find out eventually.

Now it was Tom's turn to try the mirror. He moved away from Hermione before looking into it. He felt as though he was in a trance.

The scene was blurry, as though he were looking through a frosted window. _There was a flash of green. Then Tom saw a man looking around the Great Hall of Hogwarts. The man had Tom's wand and stood like him, but his face was covered with a hood. Corpses were everywhere. The man looked down. Hermione lay on the stone floor next to a nearly decapitated corpse, motionless and presumably dead. _

Tom gasped in shock. Suddenly, the scene changed, becoming sharper. _Tom saw himself, only a few years older at most, standing in front of a large mirror. He reached out and pressed his hand against the glass. He turned around, appearing frustrated, and saw Hermione. His future self reached for his wand, but it looked slightly different from normal as he pointed it at her. _

The vision ended and he shook himself from his trance. "Weren't we only supposed to see one picture?" he asked.

"I think so," Hermione responded. "Did you see more?"

"Yes."

"What were they?" she asked tentatively.

"I don't want to talk about it now," he said. "We should give it to the professor tomorrow," he added coldly.

"All right," Hermione agreed, somewhat shocked at his behavior.

"I don't feel well," he said, setting the mirror on the table. "I think I'll go up to my room and sleep."

"Okay," Hermione said as she watched his disappearing back. Once he was gone, she wrapped the mirror in a black velvet cloth and went up to her dormitory, where she locked it in her trunk until the following day. She sat down heavily on her bed, thinking about what she had seen in the mirror.

_She had walked into a dark room. Someone stood with their back to her, blocking her view of something at the end of the room. They pushed against the mirror, but turned around in anger, presumably not getting the result they had hoped for. Hermione recognized Tom, almost identical to his present self, a look of anger on his face, anger that quickly became focused on her. He reached for his wand, obviously meaning to attack her. _

Hermione closed her eyes for a moment before turning away from the mirror. Had she waited another moment, she might have seen the hint of desperation in Tom's expression as he pointed his wand at her.

She was greatly disturbed that her vision was exactly the same what Louisa had seen in her crystal ball. She was beginning to think that Louisa might be a Seer, though she was below the usual age at which most gained their abilities. Even more disturbing was that both Louisa's divination abilities and the mirror viewed this event as one of the most important in her life, and nearly inevitable, based on the clarity of the picture. She had no idea what to do. Then an idea struck her. She bolted from the room.

Upon reaching the door to Dumbledore's office, she stopped to catch her breath. Just as she was about to knock, the door opened and Dumbledore's twinkling eyes appeared above her.

"Miss Granger, I have been meaning to speak with you for some time. Please come in," he said, opening the door wider for her to enter.

She walked over and sat in one of the red overstuffed chairs. Dumbledore sat down at his desk.

"Lemon drop?" he offered.

"Thank you, but no," Hermione politely declined. "Why did you wish to see me?" she asked after a slight pause.

"The official reason is to talk with you about career opportunities," he said with a chuckle, "but I suspect you already know at least as much on the subject as I do. The real reason I wanted to see you is to ask about how you are doing with Tom Riddle."

"I don't know," Hermione admitted after an awkward silence. "I can't tell what he thinks. Sometimes I get the feeling that he is hiding things, but other times he seems more trustworthy than a spaniel."

Dumbledore smiled at her apt description. "Has he given you any idea as to what he plans to do after graduation? It may give you some information about how you may have influenced him. I believe you said earlier that he went to work at Borgin and Burke's in your history."

"I think that's what you told Harry," Hermione replied, shrugging slightly.

"If I may, I would suggest that you try to influence him to find a job at the Ministry or even here at Hogwarts. There are several positions that may become vacant this year. If you are able to keep him away from the Dark Arts, you may be able to prevent his rise to power."

"I'll try," Hermione agreed.

"Now, on a more personal level, what is your relationship with Tom if you don't mind my asking?"

"I don't know," Hermione said for the second time that evening. "He has kissed me a few times," she confirmed, blushing at his small chuckle. "I think he-"

Tom was wandering the hallways. He had been lying on his bed thinking over what he had seen in the mirror, but grew tired of looking at his ceiling and decided to think while making his rounds. Aimlessly walking, he passed by Dumbledore's office and heard a familiar voice inside.

"-tells me things that he doesn't tell anyone else, like how his father died and what he thinks about the Ministry."

"That he is willing to trust you with such important parts of himself is impressive, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said after a moment lost in thought. "You must continue to gain his trust if you have any hope of keeping him from becoming a powerful Dark Lord as he did in your past. You must somehow give him something that is worth more to him than power and the pursuit of immortality. Do not underestimate the draw of such things. I know from personal experience how appealing they are and the terrible cost of seeking them," he ended solemnly.

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked curiously.

"Perhaps another time," Dumbledore said listlessly. Adroitly changing the subject, he continued in a brighter tone. "Now, we ought to talk at least a little about your future career, just in case anyone asks you what you have been doing. Are you sure you don't want a lemon drop?"

Tom hurriedly walked away as Hermione repeated her refusal. He was stunned by what he had heard. First of all, it seemed as though Hermione was still trying to manipulate him. He had been so sure that she was genuine in her actions. He felt something akin to pain in his chest at the thought of her duplicity, but immediately suppressed it.

Tom then turned to Dumbledore's comment about him. He had mentioned Hermione's past, which Tom knew to be in the future and said that Tom had succeeded in becoming in becoming a Dark Lord. Tom did not quite know what to make of this. He had often thought of the Dark Arts as a way to gain power for himself, but never of becoming a Dark Lord. Similarly, immortality had been a nice idea, but he had not yet found a means that was not repugnant to him, though he had thought of creating a Horcrux. Unfortunately, his father's death hadn't been suitable for the ritual, since the killing curse had to be verbalized. However, in the light of Hermione's betrayal of his fledgling trust, the idea was becoming more appealing by the minute. He thought for a brief moment about Dumbledore's confessions over power, but dismissed it. He couldn't think of anything he had to lose. But that night, just as he fell asleep, his vision from the mirror passed through his head.

After her meeting with Dumbledore, Hermione went up to see Minerva. She had been neglecting their friendship since they came back from vacation. She knocked softly on the door and Minerva opened it seconds later.

"Can I come in?" Hermione asked.

"Sure," Minerva said in a reserved voice. They walked into Minerva's room.

"We need to be quiet," Minerva warned. "Tom's already asleep."

"Okay," Hermione said. "I'm sorry I haven't been around much recently," she apologized. "With the mirror and everything, I've just been really busy," she continued lamely.

"It's all right," Minerva sighed. "I understand. You have a boyfriend now."

"That's no excuse," Hermione said vehemently. "My friends ought to come first. And Tom isn't my boyfriend."

"It's really all right," Minerva reiterated. "I would probably do the same if I had a boyfriend."

"He's not my boyfriend."

"Oh, right," Minerva said sarcastically. "I always go on dates with my project partners."

Hermione smacked her with a pillow. After a few moments, the two of them burst into laughter. Almost immediately, Minerva signaled Hermione to stop laughing. They didn't want to wake Tom.

"So, is Tom a good not-boyfriend?" Minerva asked. "Even though he is a Dark Lord in training?"

"He's the best one I've ever had, though there have only been two before anyway." Hermione's eyes lost focus as she sighed.

"Do you really like him?" Minerva asked.

"Of course I like him," Hermione replied in an incredulous voice. "I wouldn't date him if I didn't."

"I mean, do you like him in a potential life-partner way?" Minerva clarified.

"I don't know," Hermione answered, honestly. "He is smart, charming, handsome, and so many other things, but I just don't know if I can trust him," she finished.

"You can never know for sure if someone is trustworthy," Minerva said sensibly, "but if you really like him, you have to trust him. It seems that you care enough about him to be hurt even if you don't give him a chance to prove himself."

"How did you get so good at this?" Hermione asked plaintively, burying her head in a pillow.

"I have nine older female cousins."

"Oh."

They talked a bit more about classes and gossip, then Hermione went to her dorm and fell into bed.


	17. Mistrust and Distrust

Chapter Seventeen - Mistrust and Distrust

Disclaimer: I own nothing originally contained in the Harry Potter series by J.K Rowling.

Lying in bed, Hermione thought a lot about Minerva's advice. She thought about her conversation with Dumbledore. She thought about her various failed plans. She got up and quietly opened her trunk, pulling out her mostly abandoned journal. While reading through it, she came to a decision. None of her machinations had succeeded and she did not have much hope that they ever would. She would be completely honest with Tom, excluding information about his future Dark Lord self. She would take a risk to benefit both the future and herself. Minerva was right; doing nothing would only make things worse. And if necessary, she could still kill him, though she admitted to herself that it would not be as easy as it might have been in the past.

"_Tomorrow_," she thought, drifting off to sleep.

Hermione had Ancient Runes first thing Monday morning. She barely paid any attention to Prof. LeRue the whole class period. Instead, she glanced intermittently at Tom, wondering what was causing his black mood. He had not seated himself in his usual seat next to her. He was sitting next to Malfoy on the other end of the classroom. After class, she went up to him.

"You do want to give LeRue the mirror, right?" she questioned.

"Might as well," he replied with a complete lack of affect. Malfoy sneered at Hermione as he left Tom's side.

They approached Prof. LeRue with their project. Hermione took the black cloth off and set the mirror on the professor's desk. She looked at it for a moment before picking it up and examining it from all angles.

"This is a very impressive piece of work," she commented as she inspected it. "You could sell this for at least several hundred galleons, presuming it works as intended, which I will test right now." Professor LeRue turned away from them and gazed at the obsidian surface. After a moment, she turned to face them and put the mirror back on her desk.

"You have created and marvelous magical artifact," she said in awe. "Few adult witches or wizards could even dream of creating something so powerful. Now, what specifically was it supposed to show?"

"It is supposed show to a scene from the future that has great bearing on your fate. This rune," Hermione indicated, "causes the picture to become more or less clear depending on how likely it is to happen."

"Very well," Professor LeRue said a few seconds later. "I believe you have succeeded admirably in that respect. I would be pleased to write both of you recommendations for whatever positions you pursue upon graduation."

Hermione didn't realize how rare this offer was. Tom, on the other hand, knew that the runes professor rarely gave recommendations to anyone outside of her house and that she was very well respected by several high-ranking officials in the ministry. The current Minister of Magic was one of her former students, as were several other department heads.

"We are very grateful, Professor," he said quickly before Hermione could speak. He didn't want to take the chance of her offending the professor, though it was very small at this point.

"You are very welcome, Mr. Riddle, Miss Granger. Now, I was wondering if you would mind if I showed this mirror to some of my colleagues. They would be able to give you an estimate of its worth if you choose to sell it and at the very least, it would give you connections to those who could help you in your future careers."

By now, Hermione had caught on to the significance of the professor's statement. "That is all right with me, Professor LeRue," she said respectfully.

"With me, also," Tom added.

"Wonderful," Professor LeRue replied, a rare smile appearing on her face for a split second.

"Now go. I'm sure you have other work to do," she said, dismissing them kindly.

Tom and Hermione gathered their things. Even Tom couldn't keep the exultant grin from appearing on his face once they left the classroom.

"Is her recommendation as important as I think it is?" Hermione asked.

"Probably more so," Tom said with a grin, nearly forgetting about his anger toward her.

"Getting a good recommendation letter from her will get you nearly any job in the Ministry, unless you are a complete idiot."

"Well, I don't have to worry about that. You, though…" she joked.

"I was thinking the exact same thing," Tom deadpanned. "Your grades in Transfigurations have been dreadful."

"Then what are yours, troll?" she retorted. Tom laughed, any ill will completely forgotten for the moment. They walked toward the library until Tom moved to go to his rooms.

Gathering her courage, Hermione quickly walked after him.

"Tom, I wanted to talk to you about something," she said somewhat uncomfortably.

"What?" he asked sharply, her tone bringing to mind all of the other times she had needed to talk to him and what she had really been doing.

"Could we go somewhere a little more…secluded?" she asked.

"You can come up to the head rooms. Minerva has Muggle Studies now, I think," he agreed coolly. Slightly cowed by his mood, Hermione followed him without comment. Upon reaching the rooms, Tom sat in a chair by the fireplace. Hermione took the couch across from him.

"So, what did you want to talk about?" he asked calmly, his face showing no emotion.

"I've been thinking a lot about our relationship and I'm very confused," she admitted. She stood and faced the fire. "I don't really trust you and I don't think you trust me," she continued, glancing at him. "But I want to trust you and I don't know what to do. There are so many reasons that I shouldn't and only one reason that I should. And how can I expect you to trust me when I don't trust you. You've been more trustworthy than I have. You've let me into your life and I've barely told you one honest thing about myself!"

Hermione was getting very worked up. Her voice was increasing steadily in volume, her face was getting red, and her eyes had a wet film across them. Realizing her state, she calmed herself and sat down again.

Tom was silent for a minute. He was thinking through everything that she had said. "_What are her reasons for this?" _he wondered. He couldn't think of anything he had done in particular other than using Louisa to get closer to her. And she had seemed to forgive him quite easily for that.

"Hermione, look at me," he ordered. She met his eyes with her red ones. "I need to know something," he said, standing and walking up to her. She glanced away again. He reached out and tilted her chin to meet his intense gaze. This time she did not look away.

"What is your reason?" he asked commandingly.

"What?" she asked, not comprehending his question.

"What is your reason for wanting to trust me?"

"Well, I…" she blushed and looked into the fire.

"Hermione," he said quietly. "I need an answer."

"I…care about you. You are my closest friend here, maybe closer than any I have ever had before."

"Are you telling the truth?" he asked with quiet harshness.

"Yes, I am," Hermione answered, looking straight into his eyes, silently giving him permission to test her honesty. Tom stared at her for a long moment. He saw that she wasn't lying about caring for him, but that the kind of caring was not quite as she had described. It was something deeper than friendship, certainly stronger than any emotion that had been directed toward him before, but he couldn't identify what it was or understand its source.

Finally, he spoke. "You trusted me, so I will trust you. But, please, don't make me regret this," he said, allowing her to see vulnerability in his face.

"I won't," Hermione promised, a smile coming through her clouded expression. She stood and embraced Tom. His arms hung stiffly at his sides for a moment before he tentatively returned the embrace. Hermione leaned back to look at his face. Tom quickly went from expressionless to intense as he stared back at her. After a nearly unbearable pause, he moved closer to her and kissed her. It was different from all their other kisses. Before, they had been sweet and innocent, hinting at deepening emotions. This kiss was harsher, filled with passion. Tom felt the passion as the result of pain and disillusionment. For Hermione, it was symbol of inexpressible feelings. After they parted, Hermione buried her face in his chest, filled with hope about the future. With cold, glassy eyes, Tom stared into the red flames.

They went to lunch together, Hermione once again sitting at the Slytherin table, much to the chagrin of the many purebloods. After lunch, they went to Charms. Ironically, they learned Infatuation Charms and defenses against them. Neither had any difficulty withstanding the mind-altering charm and they were ready to leave well before class was finished, as was Minerva. Flitwick allowed them to go early and Tom went to his room as Hermione dragged Minerva toward the library.

Tom had felt a coldness in his chest since he heard Hermione's conversation with Dumbledore the night before. The cold had dissipated temporarily when Hermione allowed him to use Legilimency on her, but it soon returned with a vengeance.

"_It is all a ploy_," he thought moodily as he glared at the fire. "_She may 'care' for me, but people use those they care for more than those they hate. There is no reason for me to let her feelings affect my actions. Her feelings may even help me,"_ he decided. "_I won't let them stop me from getting what I deserve." _He thought about all the professors who were advocating interaction between Hermione and himself. Slughorn wanted them married off and producing child prodigies to fill his house, LeRue wanted them to rise to the top of the Ministry, and Dumbledore wanted Hermione close enough to keep an eye on him. They would suspect nothing if he appeared to follow their wishes. He would act the lovesick swain for Slughorn, the brilliant partner for LeRue, and the troubled boy slowly beginning to trust and believe in the good of mankind for Dumbledore. He would give them what they wanted and, in good time, take from them what he needed to achieve his ends.

"_Tomorrow," _he thought, "_it will all begin." _He threw the black rose that he had conjured into the fire and went to bed.

Hermione took Minerva into a remote corner of the library. She wanted a place where no one would overhear and she had never seen anyone back here except when an overachieving seventh year was looking for texts to study for their N.E.W.T.'s. "_That will be me this year," _she realized with a laugh, drawing Madam Ippenbok's disapproving gaze as the two girls disappeared into the stacks.

"So," asked Minerva, "what do you need to tell me?"

"This morning after runes, I went up to Tom's room to talk to him-"

"You went up to his room to _talk_?" Minerva interrupted skeptically. "Whose idea was that?"

"Minerva! That's not what I meant, and it was my idea. What are you, the head of house? Anyway, I followed your advice and told him how I feel about him. He said he would give me a chance and try to trust me. Then he kissed me. It was-"

"Wait a minute; he said he would trust you? Shouldn't it be the other way around? He's been far less trustworthy than you," Minerva reminded her.

"But he's never had anyone to trust before," Hermione replied defensively. "If I can prove to him that I really care about him, not about his power, maybe I can change the future. This might be my only chance."

"Just be careful," Minerva sighed resignedly.

"Don't worry about me," Hermione said. "I think he cares about me too. I don't think he would hurt me on purpose. And if he does betray my trust, I know what I will have to do."

'If you say so," Minerva said, shrugging.

"Minnie," a male voice called from behind a shelf. "I've been looking for you since charms."

Minerva's face flushed a deep red as her brow furrowed.

"Who is that?" Hermione mouthed. Minerva waved her off and stalked around a stack of books.

"I know you're there, Minnie. I would know your scent anywhere. Wild heather and sedge, very Scotch, perfect for you." A tanned figure with dark brown hair and sparkling blue eyes stepped from behind a shelf and caught Minerva's wrist before she could escape.

"What are you doing?" Minerva demanded.

"What does it look like? I'm trying to ask you to go with me to the Valentine's Day Ball. Oh, right, it doesn't look like that because I have to hold on to you just to keep you from disappearing on me. Sometimes I swear you are part nymph."

By now, Hermione recognized him as Philippe Verne, a transfer student from France. His parents had wanted him out of France because of Grindelwald and Hitler. He had arrived right after Christmas. Though he was very intelligent, he was much more of a force on the Ravenclaw Quidditch team than in class, mostly by choice.

"I'm no more a nymph than you are a troll," Minerva snapped wrenching her wrist from his hand.

"Minnie, was that a compliment?" he asked in faux shock. "You said I was not a troll. That means that I am handsome, _non_?"

"No, it does not. Just because your surname is Verne doesn't mean that you are good at fiction," growled Minerva, attempting to push past him.

"You wound me," he said, clutching his chest. "Now you must be my valentine to heal my broken heart."

"I can point you toward the infirmary if you need it," Minerva said, poking him in his supposedly wounded area.

"Minnie, I adore you, say you will be mine," he cried dropping to a single knee and conjuring a red rose complete with dew drops and removed thorns.

"You're making a scene," Minerva hissed, glowering at the alternating looks of jealousy and rapture on the faces of the female students who had gathered to watch the spectacle. Except Hermione, who was attempting to keep from falling on the floor and dying from laughter.

Philippe grabbed her hand again and pressed a long kiss to it before folding her hand around the rose.

"What do you think you are doing?" a new voice grated. Madam Ippenbok appeared around the shelf, righteously indignant at the disruption in her library. "Mr. Verne, Miss McGonagall, detention. You will organize the back reference room tonight after dinner. No wands! Now go! There will be no more liaisons in my library today."

Hermione ran after her steaming friend, attempting to curtail her own laughter at the situation.

Minerva was muttering. "…stupid…roses…idiot…ridiculous…"

"I thought it was very sweet," Hermione said, trying to keep a straight face.

"Are you insane?" Minerva asked, turning to look at Hermione. "I've been dealing with this since the Halloween Masquerade. He's the reason I left early! I don't know how you have managed to avoid seeing his antics!"

"No, just think about it. How many men do you know who would be willing to risk a detention with Madam Ippenbok, let alone make a scene and face rejection in front of people just to get you to go to the Valentine's Day Ball with them? And just because he is very dramatic, doesn't necessarily mean that he is making everything up," Hermione reasoned.

"Of course not," Minerva scoffed.

"I followed your advice and it worked. Now try following mine and see what happens," Hermione suggested. "Flirt back. If he really likes you, he will be overjoyed. If he is just using you for sport, he will be so disturbed that you will be lucky if he ever speaks to you again, which you probably wouldn't mind, in this case. What's the worst that could happen?"

"Fine," she agreed. "But if you are wrong…" she warned.

"Just trust me," Hermione said with a mischievous grin. "_This will be fun to watch," _she thought, her mind taken off of Tom for the first time all day. "_I think Philippe might be serious underneath all that flirting. Minerva deserves a good boyfriend, and it looks like he's an expert at conjuring flowers."_

They went to dinner. Hermione barely noticed Tom's absence. She was having too much fun watching Minerva and Philippe. Minerva had purposely sat where she could see Philippe and vice versa. Within minutes, he had winked at her, stared at her with smoldering eyes, and conjured a cloud of butterflies to swirl around her for a few seconds. Minerva had glanced at Hermione, who smiled with encouragement, then looked at Philippe from under her thick, black lashes and smiled slightly. She took a bite of chocolate mousse, then licked her lips slowly, not breaking eye contact. Philippe flushed for a moment, then immediately aimed a breathtaking smile at Minerva.

"See you in the library," he mouthed to Minerva.

"I hope you know what you're talking about," Minerva muttered at Hermione.

"Don't worry about it," Hermione said confidently. She remembered all too well watching Lavender in action. Minerva stood and walked confidently out of the Great Hall. Philippe wasted no time in following her.

"What was that about?" Louisa asked, moving into the vacated spot next to Hermione.

"Minnie has an admirer," Hermione said covertly.

"Oooh, what can I do to help?" she asked.

"Does Jason know Philippe very well?" Hermione asked.

"Yes, they are very good friends," Louisa said. "Oh, I understand. I'll have Jason talk to Philippe. Don't worry; I'm an expert at this sort of thing," she said with a grin, returning to her customary seat next to Jason.

Hermione felt that everything was finally falling into place for her. She was sure that Tom cared for her, her future looked bright, and she no longer felt the burden of fate upon her shoulders.

* * *

Minerva walked confidently toward the library. "_I really hope you know what you're doing, Minerva_," she thought to herself. She was about halfway there when she heard footsteps. She glanced over her shoulder and saw Philippe easing jogging to catch up with her. There was a decided twinkle in his silvery eyes.

"So, what did you want to talk to me about?" he asked, a self-assured look on his handsome face.

"_In for a penny…,"_ she thought. "Who said anything thing about talking?" she asked with a half-smile.

After a split-second of shock, he grinned widely. "You almost fooled me there," he laughed. "If I know anything about you, I know that you talk. I've been on the receiving end plenty of times."

"Nothing you didn't deserve," Minerva replied acerbically, turning to start walking once again to the library. Philippe quickly reached out and took her bag from her and tucked her arm through his. Minerva half-heartedly tried to remove it, but decided that it was not worth the effort. This decision was definitely not a result of possibly liking the situation. Philippe looked down at her, smiled, and began walking down the hallway.

"Where do you want me to put this?" he asked her, betokening to her bag when they entered the library.

"Follow me," Minerva said, wending her way through the stacks. When they were in a secluded corner, she turned to face him.

"You have been bothering me for weeks. You ruin my concentration and interrupt me constantly. Now you want me to go to the ball with you," she added sternly. He began to speak, but she cut him off.

"Why me? There are plenty of other girls here who would love to go with you to the ball. Why, instead of one of them, did you choose me?" she asked, quieting as she finished.

"You really want to know?" he asked her. She nodded decidedly.

"The day I arrived, you were the first girl I saw. You were arguing with some prefects in the hallway. I stared at you for an eternity. When you turned and saw me, you barely gave me a glance. Then you were in my first class, Transfiguration. You were obviously one of the most intelligent witches I had ever met. You were entrancing. However, it soon became obvious that you would never notice more subtle attentions," he said ruefully. "So I started flirting with you, anything to get your attention. But alas," he said with an overly-dramatic sigh, "I could barely get you to speak to me. I liked you better every day."

Minerva snorted.

"I did," he restated. "I decided that I needed to do something drastic, so I planned the little event in the library. And it worked. You're talking to me and hopefully going to the ball with me."

Minerva was not going to let him off easily. "So you like me because I ignored you? Surely that can't be the only reason."

"No, it's not," he agreed. "I could have told you about how your hair shines like the River Styx and how your eyes mesmerize me every time I gaze into them. How your lips are redder than blood and how your smile is worth more to me than a thousand Galleons."

"That might have worked," Minerva said quietly, cheeks flushing.

"I hoped it might," he said softly, reaching down to touch her cheek. "Will you go to the Valentine's Ball with me, Minnie?"

"Yes," she breathed. Philippe moved closer to her and leaned down. Minerva moved closer to him and tilter her head up. Her eyes drifted shut. She felt his breath on her face. Suddenly she felt a quick peck on her cheek. She opened her eyes and saw Philippe already at the other end of the bookshelf.

"Quidditch practice," he called. "I'll take you into Hogsmeade Saturday to get our robes." He left quickly. Minerva vacillated between smiling and scowling for the rest of the evening.

AN: What do you all think of a possible one-shot from Philippe's POV? Or Minerva's, too? There is a lot of time that I kind of ignored Minerva, and I'm sure Philippe did some humourous things while we weren't paying attention.


	18. The Bond of Love

Chapter Eighteen - The Bond of Love

Disclaimer: I own nothing except a few original characters. Everything else belongs to Ms. J.K. Rowling.

* * *

The next morning, Hermione was awakened by a squeal and a hard bounce of her mattress. She glanced at her clock. It was only 6:15. She looked the other direction, right into Louisa's face.

"I figured this was late enough!" she said exuberantly. "I wanted to talk to you right away about Philippe. He is absolutely perfect for Minnie!"

"Wha…" Hermione began.

"Jason said that Philippe started asking about Minnie the day after he arrived. Apparently he's been pestering her for ages, but she hasn't responded at all, at least until yesterday," she concluded with a giggle. "We have to get her to go to the ball with him. She needs to have a little fun instead of studying all the time. You, too!"

"I do lots of other things," Hermione replied sleepily.

"Of course you do," Louisa said, rolling her eyes. "Well, I'm off to breakfast."

"Already?" Hermione asked the empty room. She looked over at her clock and shot up in bed. It wasn't 6:15; it was 8:15. She scrambled out of bed and had just put on her robe when Minerva burst through the door.

"Great advice, Hermione," Minerva said in a chilling voice. "Sending me off with that fop. I even agreed to go with him to the St. Valentine's Day Ball. I must be insane," she moaned. She looked over at Hermione. "You do know what time it is," she said disbelievingly.

"Yes, I do. I'll meet you in potions. Your boyfriend will be worried about you if he misses you at breakfast," Hermione replied with a smirk.

"Worry about yourself," Minerva scowled, leaving the room. Hermione bathed very quickly and got to class just as the bell tolled. Slughorn smiled widely at her as she entered.

"There you are Miss Granger, I was almost worried that you weren't coming today, and we have such an exciting project!" he crowed. Hermione sat down in her customary seat next to Tom in the front row.

"Today, we will be making a potion often substituted for Amortentia in the past. It is of German origin and is known as Liebesbindung. More doting parents used in the 17th and 18th centuries to determine arranged marriages, as it is greatly superior when one doesn't wish to cause mischief. It only works when both parties contribute hairs and are compatible with each other, though that doesn't mean that they love or even like each other. If they are compatible, the potion will produce effects identical to Amortentia. If they aren't, it produces powerful animosity," he finished with a chuckle. "I've had several students who married within a year of graduation as a result of this potion, some of them among the most admired couples in the Wizarding World. Now get a parchment with the guidelines and look on the list for who your partner is. Obviously it would be foolish to keep some of you with your normal partners, especially since you are going to test it on yourselves."

Neither Tom nor Hermione were particularly surprised when they saw that they were together. Slughorn was not particularly subtle for a Slytherin. Nor were they surprised when their potion looked exactly like Slughorn's model potion an hour and a half later.

"Add in your hairs," Slughorn ordered. "Now everyone's should change a different color. The lighter the potion, the stronger it is and the more likely that you could have a very good relationship or already have one" he said with a twinkle in his eye. Unsurprisingly, he managed to be right next to Tom and Hermione when they added their hairs. It became exactly like Amortentia, with a mother-of-pearl sheen and a wonderful scent, at least to Tom and Hermione. Some of the other students were not so lucky. Minerva, who had been paired with a shy Hufflepuff, was the recipient of a rotten cabbage-like smell. Slughorn took one look at the potion and told her to switch partners with a Ravenclaw girl.

"I don't want to know what the effects of the potion would be on you two. You'll be partnered with Verne for the rest of the class," he told her. Minerva grunted something and went over to her new partner. Their potion looked shockingly similar to Tom and Hermione's when it was completed. The Hufflepuff's new partner suited him much better too.

Slughorn quickly jotted down notes about all the potions. "All right, divide your potion into two glasses. It should taste all right, maybe even delicious. Don't worry; I have the antidote right here if anything should happen."

The students hesitantly swallowed the potion. A few instantly spit it out, making disgusted faces. Others drank it like it was mundane pumpkin juice. A very small number, however, acted as though it was the elixir of life, staring at their glasses in wonder after finishing it. Hermione had to admit that it was perhaps the best-tasting thing she had ever tasted. A quick glance over at Minerva showed that she was in agreement. Philippe had a smirk on his face, while Tom showed only a slight smile at the corner of his mouth.

After a few moments, Hermione spoke. "Professor, I don't feel any different."

"Oh, I must have forgotten to mention that. It has no effects on people who are already emotionally committed to their partner. It only influences those who are unsure of or fighting their feelings. Does anyone feel the need for the antidote? It ought to wear off by dinner." he added. "Very well, I'll see you on Thursday."

Hermione glanced over at Tom as he put away his supplies and blushed. "_I wonder if he felt anything," _she thought as she walked out of class to lunch. She nearly walked into Minerva in the hallway. She was staring at Philippe as he walked away, a silly smile on her face.

"Isn't Philippe so handsome?" she asked Hermione. "And he's so charming and polite. Did you see the rose that he gave me yesterday?"

"Apparently you are fighting your feelings," Hermione said with a laugh. "Let's get you that antidote," she suggested, pulling Minerva back into the potions room. She passed Tom on her way in. He stared at her heatedly for a second, then continued out of the room. Hermione shrugged it off.

"Professor, I think Minerva needs the antidote," she said upon reaching the front desk.

"I do not," Minerva said breathily. "Have you seen Philippe anywhere?"

"Yes, he sent this for you," Slughorn said, handing Minerva a glass of the antidote. Minerva drank it. The change in her expression was astonishing. It went from enamored to enraged.

"Ugh," she snarled before stalking out of the room. Hermione moved to follow her.

"Miss Granger, I'd like a word with you if you don't mind," Slughorn said. Hermione turned back toward him.

"All right."

"Please, sit down," he said jovially, motioning to the chair next to his desk. "I hope you know that you can trust me. Think of me like an uncle," Slughorn said sentimentally. Hermione was a bit taken aback. "That said, I would like to talk to you about Tom."

"What about?" Hermione asked.

Slughorn's usually jovial face became serious. "Tom is without a doubt the most promising student, or wizard for that matter, that I have ever had the honor of meeting. He will be great, though I cannot say what he will use his greatness for. You are a similar case. No one knows where you came from, don't bother protesting," he said curtly. "I know that Dumbledore pulled strings to allow you to attend Hogwarts. Not that I have a problem with it, though it does make me think that you ought to be in Slytherin," he added with a hint of a pride.

Hermione opened her mouth to speak, or more accurately, to lie.

"I don't expect you to tell me," Slughorn cut her off. "If you were going to, you would have done so already. But I must warn you, you have a great deal of influence over Tom. Though he showed few outward signs, I know the symptoms of the Liebesbindung potion. He is obviously fighting his feelings for you, whatever they may be, thought I suspect them to be very significant. I can't help but wonder why he is fighting them and if the cause might be something that you have done. Do not underestimate him. If you have done something, he very likely already knows."

"Why are you telling me this?" Hermione asked, somewhat disturbed by Slughorn's sudden declaration.

"You think that I am only concerned with those in power, students with good connections and such. I appear to be, and I work hard to maintain that appearance. But Tom's future, I feel, is greatly entwined with the future of the entire Wizarding World. You have somehow gained power over him, though he's fighting it for all he's worth. I hope that you use that power in a constructive way. If you don't, I would not want to be you when Tom realizes your betrayal. I like you a great deal, Miss Granger, but I do not trust you or your motives any more than I trust Dumbledore's." Raising his voice, he added, "I hope you will consider coming to my little soiree this weekend."

"Um, I'll think about it," Hermione stammered before rushing out of the room. Hermione hurried to the Great Hall, hoping to catch Minerva and possibly rescue Philippe if need be. She entered the Great Hall and heard them before she saw them. Philippe had decided to encroach upon the Gryffindor House's table and had ensconced himself next to Minerva, who was sitting right next to Louisa, giving her no room to escape. Louisa caught Hermione's eye and winked.

"Minerva, darling, I wanted to ask about that potion. I though it tasted like strawberries, exactly how I imagined your lips would taste. What do you think?"

"I thought it tasted like carrion. It probably mirrors the maker's personality," Minerva retorted snidely.

Hermione sat down across from the dueling couple. "Hi, Philippe, Minerva. What did you think of class this morning?" she asked innocently.

"Very enlightening," Philippe replied with a wide grin. "Don't you agree, Minerva?"

"No, I don't."

"Darling, you may be the fairest flower in all the moors of Scotland, but you are a terrible liar. Now, I complimented you. It's only polite that you reciprocate. I'll even help you. 'Philippe, you are…'" he started in falsetto.

"The most arrogant, annoying wizard I have ever had the misfortune of laying eyes on."

"That wasn't very nice, Minnie. I do believe my feelings are hurt. Perhaps you could kiss them and make them better."

A strange glint entered Minerva's eyes. Her expression changed suddenly. She leaned toward Philippe, who looked at her, startled before a grin began to work its way onto his face. No one except Hermione noticed Minerva grab for her wand.

"_Petrificus Totalus,_" Minerva whispered, smirking as she leaned away from the motionless and stupidly grinning Philippe.

"I'm finished. I think I'll go study in the library," she said with a triumphant grin.

Once Minerva was out of the hall, Hermione removed the spell from Philippe. He immediately burst into laughter.

"I better to go the library then. Wish me luck!" he called as he left the table.

Hermione finished her lunch, then decided to go up to the clock tower to think. Though the drama at lunch had lightened her mood, she couldn't forget about her conversation with Slughorn. When she turned the corner in the hallway, she nearly ran into Minerva and Philippe. She could barely believer her eyes. Philippe was kissing Minerva. And Minerva wasn't fighting it. She stared open-mouthed. Suddenly, Minerva jerked away, pulled back her hand, and slapped Philippe. Hermione was very glad not to be on the receiving end of that slap. Minerva stormed past Hermione, leaving Philippe in the hall gingerly touching his jaw. Moments later, he took off after Minerva again. Hermione shook her head and continued on to the clock tower. As she thought about her relationship with Tom, she realized that he would have to be an idiot not to realize that she was lying about her background. She had made plenty of mistakes over the months. "_No wonder he is fighting his feelings. I told him that I 'cared' about him, but I haven't shown it much at all, at least not beyond what a friend would and a few kisses_," she thought.

"What are you doing here?" she heard a voice ask. She turned around to face Tom.

"I've been thinking about things," she responded.

"Like what?" he questioned.

"This could take a while. Let's go up to your common room. I have a lot to tell you."

"_What is she planning?" _wondered Tom as they walked up the stairs to the Head Common Room. _"She is so beautiful, and smart, and …Damn I should have gotten that antidote. How long before it wears off? Maybe she loves me? Maybe she doesn't. What am I thinking. This is ridiculous! I need to go see Slughorn after this," _he thought.

Hermione watched his face from the corner of her eye. His face was very pale and tense. He appeared to be very nervous or upset about something. Hermione, however, was determined to get this over with, regardless of the consequences. Her Gryffindor sensibilities wouldn't allow otherwise.

Hermione was very relieved that Minerva had not come up to the common room after her interlude with Philippe. She didn't want to deal with that at the moment. She plopped down on the couch by the fireplace. Tom took his usual seat in the large chair directly in front of the fireplace.

"What did you want to tell me?" he asked through somewhat gritted teeth. The potion was making his steely control much more difficult than usual.

Hermione flinched at his tone, but took a deep breath and began.

"Most of what you think you know about me isn't true and it's completely my fault." She looked to Tom, but he didn't respond, so she continued.

"Well, firstly, I wasn't homeschooled," Hermione said. "Instead, I received a letter from an owl on my eleventh birthday. Soon, I was on a train bound for a magical school in Scotland. I excelled in my studies and was planning to accomplish great things after I finished. But something completely different happened. A Dark Lord killed everyone that I cared about and left me for dead in the school, sealing it so that no one could get in, and unknowingly keeping me trapped inside. I was there alone for weeks. Even the ghosts were gone. I found many secrets that even the Headmaster hadn't known about and read nearly everything in the library, but I was going insane, I think. One day, I found a book in the Restricted Section. It told me a way to escape my prison. I thought it would just transport me outside the school, but instead, I was sent here. You saw me when I arrived."

Tom's face was calm. "The school you attended was obviously Hogwarts, but in the future. I've known about that for quite a while. But how did you actually get here?"

"Through an ancient portal."

Tom now knew that his guesses had been correct. But he was still curious about a few things. "Who was this dark wizard?"

"We do not speak his name," Hermione replied, not daring to tell him that it had been his future self.

"Did you know me in the future?" he asked.

"No, you disappeared a few years after graduating. No one ever saw Tom Riddle again," she answered, semi-truthfully.

Even under the effects of the potion, Tom guessed that the Dark Lord had been him. It explained everything that Hermione had done. She had tried to spy on him, even planned to kill him, then later befriended him. She wanted to prevent him from becoming Lord Voldemort at all costs. However, the potion wouldn't let him get further than that in his thoughts.

"Why are you telling me this?" he asked, bewildered.

"Well, I…I thought you deserved to know. Once I decided to trust you, I couldn't not tell you. I… really do care about you a lot."

Tom stood up and faced the fire silently for a few moments. Hermione stood and touched his arm. He turned to face her.

"Thank you," he whispered as his lips touched hers.

Hermione was in heaven. She had been so afraid that he would never forgive her for lying to him. Her worries had been groundless. He wasn't even angry with her and now he was kissing her.

Tom had lost the fight against the potion's effects. He could not restrain himself any longer. So he kissed her. He felt that he normally would have done something completely different, but at the moment he didn't really care. He pulled Hermione closer to him. Hermione snaked her arms around his neck and buried her fingers in his hair. She tentatively touched his lips with her tongue. Tom felt like a bolt of lightning had struck him. He pulled her flush against him.

Later, Hermione would wonder what would have happened if Minerva hadn't entered the room, swearing in Gaelic. The door slammed against the wall and Minerva walked through the doorway. Hermione pulled back slightly to look at who had come in. Minerva looked at them and scowled before stomping into her room. Tom disentangled himself from Hermione and nearly sprinted through the door that Minerva had left open, leaving Hermione confused in the middle of the common room.

Tom hurried down to the dungeons to find Slughorn. He burst into the potions room.

"What is the problem, Tom?" Slughorn asked. "You look a bit flushed."

"I need the antidote to the potion we made today," Tom said, attempting to hold on to his composure.

"I see. It should wear off in a few more hours if you want to wait. The antidote tastes as awful as the potion tastes delightful, which means you're in for a very nasty drink."

"Give it to me…please," Tom repeated emphatically.

"Don't say I didn't warn you," Slughorn shrugged, chuckling as he rifled through his desk. He handed a small bottle to Tom, who instantly through his head back and swallowed the entire contents. He turned a bit green for a few seconds, then mastered himself and stalked out, leaving Slughorn to his amusement.

He went up to the clock tower to think, much as Hermione had done earlier. Without the potion clouding his thoughts, he realized that Hermione must care for him, though he doubted whether she actually loved him. Of course, Tom didn't know what love felt like, exactly. Her trust in him could be very beneficial for his plans. After all, if he could keep her on his side, who knew what he could accomplish? As he mulled it over, he began reforming his short-term goals.

Instead of immediately pursuing the Dark Arts in order to become Lord Voldemort and consequently losing Hermione, he would have both, power and Hermione, though it might take him a little longer. He didn't know why, but he couldn't see his future without her in it. He remembered the scene the mirror had showed him and realized that he had seen Hermione in the Hogwarts of the future and believed her to be dead. That was one future, though apparently not guaranteed to come to pass. The other future he had seen was not as easy to interpret, but Hermione was alive in it, so that was the future that he wanted, though the idea of marrying or even living with someone else had never appealed to him before. He didn't care to examine what had changed. All he knew is that he wanted, almost needed, to keep Hermione close to him.

"_If I don't, she might tell others what she knows about me or try to stop me, and I don't want to have to kill her or worry about her trying to kill me," _he rationalized. Tom avoided thinking about what it would be like to actually kill her. He decided that he might as well put his new plan into action immediately. He ran back up to the Head Common Room, hoping that Hermione might still be there. Surprisingly, she was sitting on the same couch as she had been earlier.

Hermione had gone into Minerva's room after Tom left. Minerva was not very happy. Philippe had kissed her, she had liked it, and she had slapped him, which only made him laugh. He had followed her and kissed her again, this time, not even allowing her to retaliate. He caught her hand before she could hit him again, kissed it, and walked away, reminding her of their date at Hogsmeade that weekend. Minerva had come up to her room, hoping for a peaceful sanctuary, only to find Tom and Hermione kissing in the common room. Right before Tom returned, Hermione had left Minerva's room, deciding that it would be better to let Minerva cool off before attempting to talk to her.

"Sorry about that, Hermione," Tom apologized with a charming smile as he entered the room. I forgot that I was supposed to meet with Slughorn tonight. It was just some Head Boy business." He sat down next to her and took her hand.

"I wanted to ask you something." He paused. "Will you go with me to the Valentine's Day Ball? I can't think of anyone I would rather go with."

"Of course I will," Hermione answered happily.

"I'll go with you to Hogsmeade to get your dress on Saturday if you want," he offered.

"All right," Hermione agreed. Tom leaned over to kiss her, much more gently than the first kiss of the evening, though just as intimately. After a few minutes, Tom pulled back.

"You should go," he said huskily.

Hermione blushed and nodded, standing up and straightening her robes. She walked over to the door, smiled at him again, and left.

Hermione felt as though she was floating through the halls. This feeling continued for several days. Tom and she sat together at all the meals and one could hardly see one without seeing the other. But by the weekend, the focus of the school gossips had shifted back to Minerva and Philippe and their tempestuous relationship.

On Saturday, the two couples set out for Hogsmeade. Minerva walked quickly, trying to pull away from Philippe, but his superior height made it impossible. Hermione glanced at Tom, trying not to laugh. He smirked, amusement evident in his eyes. Though not usually affected by school dramas, he found Minerva to be hilarious.

Tom and Philippe walked the girls over to the dress shop, then went over to The Three Broomsticks.

"So, how is your jaw?" Tom asked, laughing as he drank his butterbeer.

"It's mostly healed," Philippe replied. "The nurse refused to heal it, said something about me deserving it."

"I can't imagine," Tom commented dryly.

"You should have seen her," Philippe sighed. "She is gorgeous when she's angry, even more than normal."

"Do you think that they are finished finding their gowns?" Tom asked, not wanting to hear about Philippe's infatuation.

"It's only been half an hour. Give it another few hours, and then we'll go check."

Tom sighed and returned to his butterbeer.

Over at the shop, Minerva and Hermione were happily going through racks of dresses. Within twenty minutes, they both had several picked out to try on. Hermione had chosen dark burgundy satin, gold brocade, pink taffeta, and white silk dresses. Minerva had picked out crimson silk, royal blue satin, and emerald chiffon gowns. Minerva quickly picked the crimson silk gown. It was floor-length with a slight train and had black silk embroidery on the bodice.

"This is perfect," Minerva said. "Do you think I ought to get the black gloves too?" she asked, pointing at the gloves shown with the dress on a mannequin.

"Why not?" Hermione said. "Now please help me pick one of these dresses, I have no idea which one to get."

Hermione tried all four on. The gold one was last, but Hermione knew immediately that it was the right one. It was a bit more expensive than she would have preferred, but she had been very frugal with the money she had brought with her, so she felt that she would have enough gold to last until she became employed even after purchasing the dress and accessories.

"They all look great on you," Minerva said, "but I think the gold one is best."

"I love it," Hermione said, spinning around, "but isn't it too formal?"

"That's right, you haven't been to the Valentine's Ball before. It's definitely not too formal. Some students dress like they're going to a Ministry gala, complete with family jewels."

"So I guess I ought to buy gloves and new shoes too," Hermione said none too disappointedly, heading over to the accessories. Minerva rolled her eyes before smiling and walking quickly after her.

Three hours later, Hermione and Minerva arrived at the pub. Philippe was staring out the window at nothing and Tom was reading a book that he had bought after waiting an hour.

"We're finished," Hermione announced.

"Are you going to show me what you bought?" Philippe asked Minerva.

"You'll see my dress at the ball," she retorted. "Just be sure to wear black robes and you'll be fine."

"There goes my plan for orange with purple polka-dots," Philippe sighed.

"Very funny."

"Did you find everything you needed," Tom asked Hermione courteously.

"Yes, I found the perfect dress. I hope you like it."

"I'm sure I will," he said, kissing her lightly on the cheek as she sat down next to him.

"Hmm, good idea," Philippe said, pulling Minerva down next to him and kissing her, though on the lips instead of the cheek. She pulled away almost instantly and scowled, but everyone noticed the gleam in her eyes.

"Are any of you going to the Slug Club meeting tonight?" Hermione asked. "Slughorn specifically asked me to come and I haven't thought of an excuse yet."

"I'll go with you," Tom said. "I haven't been to any in months, but they will definitely be more interesting with you there."

"Good," Hermione said, relieved. "I'm not sure how long I can stand talking to some of those people."

"I don't blame you," Minerva said. "Malfoy, Avery, ugh."

Tom bristled for a moment, before chuckling. "I could see how you would find their conversation lacking. Slytherins aren't known for their social skills, except for extortion and threats."

"Tom, did I just hear what I think I heard? Admitting a Slytherin weakness?" Minerva asked with mock shock.

"Who said I was describing a weakness?" Tom asked seriously.

They ordered their food and ate. They all decided to go back to the castle for the rest of the day. Everyone except Philippe had Transfiguration homework. Surprisingly, he was in Divination with Louisa instead.

The week passed very quickly. Although Valentine's Day was on Wednesday, the ball was Saturday night, in effect stretching Valentine's Day over four days instead of one. The girls were thrilled. The male half of the student population wondered what the big deal was. Jason, in particular, was suffering. Louisa had dragged him to Madam Puddifoot's three times over the last half of the week.

Finally Saturday arrived. Minerva, Louisa, and Hermione slept late, ate lunch, and started getting ready up in Minerva's room, much as they had for the Halloween Masquerade. Their preparation was much more elaborate than at Halloween, however. There was jewelry to be conjured, hair to be styled, and many other little things to prepare themselves for the ball. Minerva had asked a house-elf to bring dinner to the room, one of the privileges of being Head Girl.

By seven o'clock, they were ready. They entered the common room where their dates were to be waiting, ready to go to the ball.

* * *

AN to my German readers: For the title of the potion, I was going for "Love's Bond," specifically, "bond" in the chemical sense, like hydrogen bond, etc. The LEO site told me to use Bindung, but I just wanted to doublecheck. Chemistry terms aren't generally taught in German classes...


	19. Career Choices

Chapter Nineteen - Career Choices

Disclaimer: Not mine, not mine, not mine.

AN: So, there is one chapter left in the Hogwarts section of this story after this. I would like to declare the next chapter the "Super-Review Chapter." This means that I would like a ton of reviews, especially from longtime readers and people who have never reviewed before, in which you tell me what you think of the alterations over all, what you would like to see changed in the next section, etc. A ton of you have this story in your favorites or alerts, so I know you exist... Also, I want to warn you in advance that there will probably be a lot more cutting in the post-Hogwarts chapters than there has been so far.

But no, I'm not going to purposely hold chapters hostage until I get my 18 dozen reviews. However, I have two papers dues this week and three midterms coming up soon, so the pace of updating will probably be a bit slower, though still multiple times per week, I hope.

* * *

Two-and-a-half mouths dropped open. Tom would never deign to look like a fish, so he only opened his mouth halfway before his face morphed into a smile, which transformed into a smirk when he glanced at his companions.

"You look amazing," Jason said to Louisa, coming out of his stupor. Louisa, unsurprisingly, was wearing a light pink silk and chiffon dress that floated around her as though it was a living, breathing entity. Her hair was loose and softly curled. Jason thought she had never looked more beautiful.

"Thank you, Jason," she said, giving him a quick peck. "Let's go, we don't want to be late." She pulled him out of the room with a wave to the others.

Philippe was the next to speak. "You look like an angel, Minerva-"

She smiled coyly.

"-though possibly and fallen one."

Her crimson and black dress showed her figure to best advantage and her black hair was pulled back into a shining knot. Her dark red lipstick did nothing to belie Philippe's description.

"Well, since you are a demon, I would say that we are well-matched."

"Finally you admit that we are a match made in…heaven," he said charmingly to her back as she stalked out the door. He quickly followed her.

Tom hadn't been paying any attention to the others in the room. He had eyes only for Hermione. Her hair was piled upon her head in curls, with tendrils framing her face. The gold in her dress brought out the natural highlights of her hair and the flecks in her brown eyes. Her dress was gold with gold and copper patterns woven into the fabric in the shapes of flowers and garlands. The strapless bodice had a sweetheart neckline and the skirt flared out gracefully from her hips. She wore strappy gold sandals and dangling earrings. Tom was pleased that she wore the ring he had given her even though it didn't quite match with the rest of her ensemble. All in all, he couldn't remember seeing anything more beautiful.

"Do you like it?" Hermione asked. He hadn't said anything yet, just stared at her without expression.

"You look perfect except for one thing," he said walking up to her. He took out his wand and murmured a quick spell. Her ring now appeared gold instead of silver.

"Now you are perfect," he said, smiling at her. He extended his arm to her and they walked down to the Great Hall.

The Great Hall was decorated beautifully with red and gold draping and roses. A small orchestra played off to one side. Couples were already dancing to a waltz in the middle of the hall. Whispers broke out the instant Tom and Hermione entered. Everyone agreed that they looked wonderful together. Dumbledore glanced at them from his conversation with Professor Merrythought and smiled knowingly.

Tom swept Hermione onto the dance floor. They danced for several songs before Hermione asked Tom to get her something to drink. Tom had barely left before Hermione found herself surrounded by unattached males hoping for a dance.

"There you are Hermione, you promised me a dance, remember?" a voice said. Hermione turned around to see Aulus Malfoy smiling warmly at her. She looked from him to the mob around her and decided on the lesser of two evils.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, I completely forgot, Aulus," she replied with a bright smile, glad to escape from the others. She looked around for Tom and saw him talking to Professor Slughorn.

Aulus was a fine dancer, though not a graceful as Tom. Everything went fine until he started talking to her.

"So, you are officially Tom's girlfriend now," he stated.

"Yes," she answered.

"I was extremely surprised when I heard. I couldn't imagine that Tom would ever date anyone outside of the Slytherin House. Some have even been calling him a blood traitor."

"That's ridiculous," Hermione scoffed. "Slytherin House would comprise of nothing more than idiots with harelip if they never married anyone from other houses."

"I'm pleased that you have such a positive view of my intelligence and appearance, Hermione," he replied tightly.

"I know that you are neither an idiot nor do you have a harelip, but I would guess that you have escaped that fate only because other Slytherin families marry, oh, girls from Ravenclaw occasionally," Hermione commented lightly, glancing around for Tom. He was still talking to Slughorn.

"Slytherin girls, however, do not marry outside of the house. You cannot imagine how distraught some of them were when they discovered that Tom was dating you. I would be careful. Slytherins are not good losers. Something…unfortunate could happen to you," he said blandly.

"Are you threatening me?" she bristled.

"You misunderstand me, Hermione. I am merely warning you of the general attitude in the Slytherin House. I would hate to see anything happen to you," he added innocently.

"I'm touched," Hermione retorted. Malfoy smiled coldly. Someone tapped him on the shoulder. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Tom.

"Hello, Tom. I haven't seen you for a while. You must be very busy with…other pursuits," Malfoy said. Tom scowled for a split second before forming a polite smile.

"Well, I just finished a very involved project for runes and have been very busy with Head Boy business. Hopefully things will be calmer for a few months until NEWTs," he replied. "Now, if you will excuse us?" he asked, taking Hermione's arm and leading her back to the center of the floor. Malfoy sneered as they walked away before going to retrieve his simpering Slytherin date from Avery.

"What did Malfoy say to you?" Tom asked, seemingly without worry.

"Just how some of the Slytherins are unhappy about your choice of girlfriend, nothing I haven't heard before."

"He is just jealous that I managed to get a date capable of human speech, unlike that Crabbe girl. She may be better-looking than the males in the family, but she is twice as stupid," he said with a short laugh.

The night passed quickly with dancing and socializing. Sometime later, Hermione and Tom went out to the same balcony they had discovered Louisa and Jason kissing on during the Halloween Masque.

"Tonight was wonderful," Hermione breathed, staring up at the stars. "Things have changed so much since the last time we stood here like this," she said, remembering back to the fall.

"For the better," Tom added. "I don't think I have ever been happier than I am now," he said, truthfully for a change.

"Neither have I. I still miss my friends that were killed, but I am happy," she said, looking up at him with glistening eyes.

Tom couldn't resist. He had wanted to kiss her all evening and finally had the opportunity. He had just touched her lips with his when they heard someone come onto the balcony.

"Too bad, Minnie, looks like the balcony is occupied. Hmm…that's a good idea," said Philippe humourously, realizing what Tom and Hermione had been doing.

"We were just leaving," Hermione said with impish glee, dragging Tom with her back into the Great Hall.

She giggled as they joined in with the other dancers.

"Make sure that I'm not around when Minerva catches up with you," Tom joked.

"Oh, she'll thank me for it eventually," Hermione replied flippantly.

"What was your name? Louisa?" he asked.

"Very funny." Hermione punched him lightly in the arm.

"That wasn't very nice," he chided. Suddenly, he turned her into a spin in the center of the floor. Hermione would have tipped over except for Tom catching her and lifting her above the floor.

"Show-off," she grunted when he set her down gently. "Look, there's Minerva!" she pointed.

Minerva and Philippe had come in from the balcony. Minerva was distinctly flushed and for once, Philippe did not have an accompanying handprint on his face.

"I should go congratulate Philippe," Tom murmured to Hermione.

"Don't you dare," Hermione hissed, pulling him back into the dance. "Oh, I forgot to ask. What were you talking with Slughorn about while I was dancing with Malfoy?"

"He wanted to talk to me about career opportunities after graduation. I don't know why he decided to do it here instead of after class some day."

"What did he suggest?"

"Oh, the Ministry, becoming an Auror, research. Same as all the teachers do if you have half a brain and no money," he said cynically.

"I always wanted to do one of those. To be able to make a difference in the world," she replied. "I know people like Malfoy seem to have everything, but they aren't happy. They have to live the same way their parents lived and try to find something to give them a purpose that isn't against the rules. I can love and marry anyone I want and know that my children will be happy just like I am now or I can choose whatever career I want, from opening a bookstore to researching a cure for Lycanthropy."

"Somehow, you make it sound much better," Tom said, smiling down at her.

Soon the ball was over and the students began walking back to their dormitories. Tom walked Hermione back to the portrait and kissed her good-night.

Tom entered his bedroom and changed out of his dress robes. He lay in bed thinking about the evening, specifically Hermione's comment about her future career. Tom had originally planned to travel and find wizards and witches to teach him what Hogwarts couldn't, the most secret magic. However, he began to think. He wanted Hermione. She would almost definitely go to work in some department of the Ministry of Magic. If she was watching for him to become a Dark Lord, she would know immediately if he left for places unknown. He would have to think of a solution.

Hermione was also thinking about their conversation. "_Hopefully he'll at least think about it," _she thought before drifting off to sleep. _"I really hope he doesn't disappear for years and come back as Lord Voldemort."_

The rest of February passed quickly. The teachers were beginning to pile on work to prepare the seventh-years for NEWTs. One could find Minerva, Philippe, Tom, and Hermione studying or working in the library nearly every night. Sometimes others joined them, but usually not. Their group was known for confusing most students more than they were to begin with. Minerva was pleasantly surprised when Philippe finally proved that he was actually intelligent. He could compete with her in every class except Transfiguration, but he had somewhat of a knack for Divination. Tom and Hermione were equal in nearly every respect. It was almost as if they purposely traded first and second place in all their classes every week.

In early March, wizards and witches from the Ministry and many other magical businesses came to Hogwarts for a career fair. The seventh-years got an afternoon off to go speak with the representatives.

"I can't believe that in another three months, I'll be living on my own and working!" Hermione exclaimed as they looked around the Great Hall. "What are all of you going to look at?" she asked Tom, Minerva, and Philippe.

"I've always wanted to be a professor here," Minerva admitted. "I think Transfiguration, but Dumbledore will be here a long time, so I need to find something else to do first, preferable that would involve transfiguration so that I don't forget everything."

A uniformed wizard had heard Minerva. "You mentioned Transfiguration? I'm from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. We have a branch that specifically focuses on items transfigured to hide evidence of illegal activities or contraband items, very challenging work. I can introduce you to one of the officers right over here," he said, guiding a beaming Minerva over to a Ministry table.

"There goes my girlfriend," Philippe complained. "If she gets that job, I'll never see her unless I start breaking the law."

"So what are you thinking of doing?" Tom asked him curiously.

"Oh, I've had offers from several Quidditch teams already," he said shrugging. "I'm going to wait to decide until Minerva decides where she's going to work."

"That's sweet of you," Hermione commented. "I want to be an Auror," she said after a moment. "I have the required skills and wouldn't want to be stuck at a desk all day." She laughed at herself. "When I was younger, I wanted to own be a researcher so I wouldn't have to deal with people. But I think I can do more as an Auror." She turned her focus to Tom. "Who are you going to talk to?" she asked him, watching him scan the room, looking for anything interesting.

"Maybe the Department of Mysteries," he mused, walking off through a crowd of students. Hermione went in the other direction to the Auror table, right next to where Minerva was animatedly talking to a Ministry.

The Auror table consisted of one piece of parchment stating the requirements for entry into the training program and a grizzled wizard sitting in a chair.

"So you want to be an Auror, eh?" he asked in a strong Scottish brogue. "You're the first student to even bother asking today. I'll tell you right now that you probably won't make it."

"I think I will," Hermione said stubbornly.

"Tell you what, I'll help you out. We can go over to the edge of the room and I can do a quick evaluation so you don't end up wasting your time, how about that?"

"All right," Hermione agreed, sure that she could impress him. They walked over to the edge of the hall, away from innocent bystanders.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked.

"Positive."

Hermione had barely finished speaking when a hex was launched at her. She quickly blocked it and fired off a Silencing Charm. The Auror dodged surprising quickly for his apparent age and retaliated with a disarming spell. Caught off guard, Hermione didn't have a chance to recapture her wand. She decided to continue casting wandlessly. She cast the same spell to attempt to disarm him, but he blocked it. Suddenly, he cast a spell silently. Hermione didn't know what it was, so she cast a Shielding Charm. She felt something hit her shield and continue pushing on it. She couldn't hold it long without her wand. She quickly cast a different Shield Charm, one that deflected spells much more strongly than the average _Protego_. Immediately the pressure lifted. She used the Auror's surprise to send a particularly nasty stunning spell at him. It didn't hit him full on, but it was enough to slow him, giving her a split second advantage. She cast _Expelliarmus_, expecting it to succeed easily. However, it did not. Instead the Auror jumped to the side and hit her with the same stunning spell she had cast on him. Hermione felt herself falling, but was caught by Tom, who quickly removed the spell.

Hermione looked around. A huge crowd had gathered around the duel to watch. Applause broke out sporadically for a few minutes. Tom smiled at her, remembering his duel with her at the beginning of the school year.

"You didn't use nearly as strong of spells as you could have," he murmured to her as he set her on her feet.

"He didn't make me as angry as you did," she retorted quietly with a smile.

"I'm Virgil Thomson, Head of the Auror Department," the wizard said, walking over to Hermione. "You obviously have experience dueling."

"Umm, a bit," she replied evasively.

"Hmm. Anyway, I will offer you a place in the next Auror Training Class, providing that you don't fail your NEWTs."

"Thank you," Hermione replied, very pleased with the outcome.

"Congratulations," Tom said after Thomson went back to glaring at the students from his table.

"Thanks!" Hermione said. "How did your meeting with the Department of Mysteries representative go?"

"He said that I needed to get Os on all my NEWTs," he shrugged. "I was planning to anyway," he added with a smirk.

"Of course," Hermione said, returning a very similar smirk. Tom noticed it.

"I think I have corrupted you. You have appropriated my smirk," he smirked.

"I figured that if it irritated me, it might irritate you back."

"Reasonable, but I feel more pride than irritation. You would have fit in so well in Slytherin," he mourned.

"Probably," she agreed, "but isn't it more Slytherin to be a Slytherin in Gryffindor?"

"Good point, you fooled them all," Tom said. "They don't know the real you."

"Lucky for you. Otherwise I would have had so many swains that you would never have stood a chance," she retorted airily.

"No, I just would have had to kill more of them," Tom said seriously.

Hermione flinched nearly unnoticeably before laughing shortly. Tom noticed her slight twitch. He realized that he must have reminded her of how his future self killed all her friends and family. Tom Riddle felt slightly stupid, a very rare feeling for him.

"Then I would have had to kill you," she replied equally seriously, before smiling to release the tension building in the air.

Neither realized quite how serious the other was.


	20. Moving On SUPER REVIEW CHAPTER

Chapter Twenty: The SUPER REVIEW CHAPTER

AN: I told y'all that this would be the SUPER REVIEW CHAPTER. I hope you are prepared. I look forward to all of your reviews, but would especially appreciate it if you would tell me anything that has seemed unclear, something you loved that disappeared in the rewrite, a section in the coming chapters that, if it disappears, will cause you to threaten my life, etc.

Alternatively Titled: Moving On

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns most of this story, which means you couldn't pay me even if you wanted to. sigh

The rest of March passed in a flurry of activity. The seventh and fifth-years were beginning to study feverishly for NEWTs and OWLs at the end of the term and everyone else was focused on the House Cup and Quidditch.

Hermione couldn't have cared less about Quidditch, but she did want Gryffindor to win the House Cup. Slytherin had won every year that Tom had been at Hogwarts. Similarly, Tom was only focused on NEWTs and the House Cup. He didn't want his streak to end his final year at Hogwarts. It didn't help that the Head Girl was a Gryffindor who was willing to do almost anything to help her house.

"_Those Gryffindors aren't nearly as honorable as everyone thinks_," he thought as he left dinner. He alone had noticed the impressive Confundus Charm Minerva had aimed at Crabbe that resulted in a rather spectacular food fight at the Slytherin table. He had simply shielded himself and Hermione, who happened to be sitting with him, and calmly left the table, taking a seat at the Gryffindor table, directly across from Minerva.

"Nice charm," he said with a smirk.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Minerva replied.

Philippe, another sometime honorary Gryffindor, rolled his eyes. In an odd turn of events, even though Ravenclaw was winning at Quidditch, mostly because of him, they appeared almost jinxed in all other areas that awarded house points, except Divination, where Philippe was the favored student, even above Louisa.

Tom looked behind him to the Slytherin table. Slughorn was beet read and shouting at them to cease fire. Finally Professor LeRue walked up to the table, glared, and said, "Thirty points from Slytherin." Suddenly all was silent. She stalked back up to the faculty table, leaving a heaving Slughorn to discipline his house.

"Good job, Minerva," Hermione congratulated, ignoring Tom's presence.

"Thanks," she accepted, grinning mischievously.

"Because I prefer to use surprise to my advantage, I will delay retaliating," Tom drawled lazily.

"It's not our fault that Crabbe thinks throwing food is expressing love," Minerva replied, a look of abject innocence on her face.

"Crabbe usually isn't capable of feeling anything more than hunger, so it is still your fault," Tom smirked.

"Hmm, guess we'll have to be on our guard against our little snaky Head Boy, won't we, Minerva?" joked Hermione.

"Too late," Tom said, standing up and going back to the now clean Slytherin table. The Gryffindors looked around and saw nothing. Suddenly, every dish on the table exploded. Food and pumpkin juice hurled through the air, some even going as far as the Slytherin and Ravenclaw tables. Hermione quickly cast a shielding charm and glared over at Tom, who smiled back angelically. Once again, Prof. LeRue stomped down, this time to the Gryffindor table.

"I didn't realize how poorly parents educate their children about table manners. Forty points from Gryffindor. Now sit down and eat your food or leave," she scowled. Hermione, Minerva, and Philippe decided the best course of action was to leave. Hopefully, Tom would follow, preventing any more "accidents" from occurring.

He did and they headed to the library for their customary study session. On the way, they ran into Louisa and Jason. Both were smiling, though Louisa had a few tears in her eyes.

"You'll never guess what just happened!" Louisa squealed.

"What?" Minerva asked, wincing and rubbing her ear.

"We're engaged! We're going to get married right after graduation! Jason is going to work at his family's business, so I can focus on making our home, and children someday. We'll be together forever" she said dreamily. Jason blushed.

"Congratulations," Philippe replied, the first to speak.

"_Obviously the women's rights movement hasn't occurred yet,_" Hermione thought, but she was happy for her friends, silly though they may be. "Yes, congratulations," she said, hugging Louisa.

"Oh, we have to go tell the others, let's go to the Great Hall, Jason," Louisa said, pulling Jason along behind her. Jason gave them a silly smile and turned to follow his fiancée.

"Well, there's the first engagement. Want to make any bets about how many there will be by graduation?" Minerva asked.

"Are there usually many?" Hermione asked curiously.

"Usually about ten, right Tom?" Minerva asked.

"That's sounds close," Tom agreed.

"Hey Minerva, could I talk to you?" Philippe asked.

"Sure," Minerva replied nervously as he pulled her off in the same direction as Louisa and Jason had gone.

"When I went to school, most people didn't get married until they had been out of school at least two or three, sometimes even ten years," Hermione said, astonished.

"Getting married within the year after graduation is very common now," Tom informed her, before returning to his thoughts as they finally entered the library. "_Keeping Hermione with me forever doesn't sound that bad," _Tom thought.

"I would never get married that soon. I want to be independent for a while before getting married or starting a family," Hermione said determinedly.

"I don't think that I will ever get married," Tom said, belying his previous thoughts. "It definitely didn't work out well for my parents."

"That doesn't mean that you shouldn't marry anyone," Hermione disagreed emphatically. "If you love someone, you should be willing to do almost anything to make them happy, not just use them to make yourself happy."

"You're probably right, as usual," Tom capitulated with a small smile. "_Apparently, she thinks I ought to marry someone eventually. I wonder who she has in mind?"_ he smirked.

After about half an hour, Francis Avery walked into the library.

"Tom, did you forget that you were going to help some of the fifth years with Defense Against the Dark Arts OWL prep? They are waiting for you in the dungeon," he said.

"Oh, sorry. I completely forgot. I'll see you later Hermione," he said, kissing her on the cheek.

As soon as they were away from the library, Tom pushed Avery up against the wall.

"What do you think you are doing?" he hissed.

"Malfoy told me to get you to come down to the dungeon," Avery said in a strained voice.

"Why?"

"I don't know."

"Fine, I'll go help my poor fifth-year housemates," Tom snarled.

Tom was in a rage by the time he reached the secret room in the dungeons.

"What was the reason for your interruption, Malfoy?" he asked dangerously as he entered the room.

"We are merely concerned about you, my Lord," Malfoy replied smoothly. "We haven't had a meeting in months and have been feeling somewhat purposeless."

"Your purpose is to not cause trouble or make yourselves known, something that you have been doing well at until now. I am not accountable to you, Malfoy," Tom hissed coldly.

"Well, we feel that our purpose is greater, but unfortunately, your purpose seems to be quite different from what it was when you created our group. Instead of purging those of inferior blood, you seem to be befriending them."

"Do you want me to attack every Mudblood on sight? How long do you think we would last? Or is that your plan, Aulu?" Tom questioned dangerously, looking the blond in the eyes. "There is only so much we can do here at Hogwarts, but someday, I will call on you and you will answer. Things greater than your instant gratification are at stake. We must bide our time and build our power until we are sure of success. Your only task from now on is to wait. Do not force my hand," he threatened in a controlled voice.

"You are a fifth-year," he said, turning to another student. "This is how you transfigure a tea cup into a rat." He conjured a cup, waved his wand at it and tossed the rat at the student before stalking out of the room.

Tom returned to the library, only to find Hermione gone.

"Where did Hermione go?" he asked the librarian.

"Professor Dumbledore wanted to speak with her," she replied, not even looking up at him from her book.

This offhand statement damaged Tom's mood even more than the Death Eater meeting had. He hurriedly went to Dumbledore's office, cast camouflage and hearing spells on himself, and started to listen to the conversation.

"-is thinking about working in the Department of Mysteries! At least he isn't going to disappear," Hermione said.

"I'm not sure that the Department of Mysteries is the best place to keep Mr. Riddle away from the Dark Arts," Dumbledore replied.

"Well, nothing would drive me to the Dark Arts faster having boring work every day," Hermione retorted. "He would probably be the best wizard they have ever hired. Also, I'll be working at the Ministry, too, so I might even see him every day for a while."

"I think you would see him every day regardless of where you worked, Miss Granger."

"_Maybe he isn't as much of a fool as I thought,"_ Tom mused.

"Maybe, but I'm not sure that he will want to continue our relationship once we graduate," Hermione replied worriedly, attitude changing from confident to insecure in a heartbeat.

"_Where would she get an idea like that?" _Tom thought irritably.

"I think you underestimate the changes you have made in Mr. Riddle," Dumbledore commented after a slight pause.

"I hope so," Hermione sighed.

"The main reason I brought you here was to tell you that I will be going away for a few days. If I don't return, you will find that my will leaves most of my possessions to you. I can't think of anyone who would make better use of them."

"Where are you going?" Hermione asked.

"It is best that I keep it to myself," Dumbledore replied.

"Wait, 1945. You are going to face Grindelwald!"

"You know of this?"

"Well, I don't really know anything except that you faced Grindelwald in 1945 and obviously beat him since you were still alive when I started school."

"That is for the best, Miss Granger. Don't worry about me. Now, would you like a lemon drop before you leave?"

Tom moved silently down the hall. In minutes, he was ensconced in his usual chair in the common room.

"_Somehow, I need to get Hermione to know that I won't let her go. She is mine and there is no way that I'm going to let her get away from me after graduation," _he thought darkly. He still avoided confronting why he was so determined to keep Hermione with him. _"It is only because she knows so many of my secrets_," he told himself.

He roused himself and realized that it was almost time for dinner. He walked toward the Great Hall deep in thought. Just before he turned a corner, he heard voices.

"Promise you'll never leave me," a girl whispered.

"I would haveto die first, I love you," her boyfriend assured her. Then all was silent.

Tom stood motionless for some minutes. The answer had appeared before him like magic. He knew exactly what he had to do.

He decided to go a different way rather than disturb the couple. He had to plan his course of action for the evening. Tom went to dinner and waited impatiently for Hermione. She arrived quite soon after him, but if felt like hours. Tom smiled warmly at her and beckoned for her to sit with him. Tom finished very quickly, then turned to ask Hermione a question.

"Will you meet me in the clock tower at 10:00 tonight?" he asked intently.

"Oh, of course," Hermione replied. "What for?"

"Can't a man have a few secrets?" he asked, the picture of innocence.

"Until ten o'clock you can," she joked. "I'll meet you there."

"Great," Tom replied, relieved by how easy the first step had been.

He went up to the clock tower to begin preparations.

The first thing that Hermione noticed when she reached the top of the clock tower was the scent of roses. She gasped when she saw what Tom had done with the normally dank, drafty room. There were hundreds of candles floating in the air above her head and red rose petals strewn across the floor. Crimson velvet drapes covered the windows, allowing the candles to pleasantly warm the air. She stood staring in the center of the room. Suddenly, she felt lips touch her neck and arms creep around her waist. She turned around to meet Tom's silver eyes.

"What is all this for?" she asked curiously.

Tom took a deep breath.

"I know that you don't want to get married for a few years, neither do I, to be honest. But I don't want this to be over once we graduate. I want to keep learning about you, little things like how you flip your hair out of your eyes during potions and love pumpkin juice with extra cinnamon."

Hermione smiled softly at him, urging him with her eyes to continue.

"May I have your ring?" he asked suddenly, lifting her right hand. She nodded, pulled it off her finger, and handed it to him, watching curiously. He pulled out his wand and murmured an incantation. The words "Þu ecelic min, ic ecelic þin" appeared on the band. "This is for you, to show everyone that you are mine," he saw her narrow her eyes, "and that I am yours," he added. "Will you accept it?" he asked nervously.

"What does it mean?" she asked.

"'Thou eternally mine, I eternally thine.'" Hermione nodded her assent and Tom gently replaced it on her finger and pulled her close to him.

"Hermione," he whispered in her ear, "I think I love you." Hermione's eyes filled with tears.

"I love you, too," Hermione said emotionally, gently turning his face toward her. She stared into his eyes for a moment before stretching up to kiss him.

Tom had never felt anything like it. It was different than the other kisses they had shared. _"Because she belongs to me now," _he thought before all thoughts left his mind. It didn't even occur to him that the feelings might be related to love. They stood there embracing for what seemed both like eternity and no time at all.

"We should go back to our rooms, Tom," Hermione murmured. "It's getting late."

"I'll walk you back," Tom said, shouldering her bag.

As Hermione stepped through the portrait hole to the Gryffindor dormitories, she kissed Tom once again, whispering "I love you."

Tom still didn't understand.

* * *

Dumbledore's absence was subject of much gossip over the following week. No one except Hermione had any idea where he had gone.

Tom was patrolling the hallways after midnight. The prefect who usually took the shift had been injured in a Quidditch game, leaving Tom with the responsibility. He walked through the halls silently, snakelike. Suddenly, he saw a dark shadow. Irritated by losing time that he could have used for studying or sleeping, he didn't bother to ascertain who or what it was.

"_Expelliarmus,_" he whispered. The second the unknown person's wand entered his hand, he lit up the hallway.

"Mr. Riddle," Dumbledore said, his usually humorous voice weary and perhaps sorrowful, Tom thought.

"Sorry, Professor," Tom apologized, moving to return Dumbledore's wand. Dumbledore stared at the wand as though he had never seen it before. Tom realized that the wand he was holding felt different from his own. It seemed more powerful, primitive. He examined it more closely. It was black, made from ebony, but its core felt different from any wand Tom had ever touched. It was almost as if it had its own life. He looked up after a moment at Dumbledore. The professor had a look of near despair upon his face.

"The wand, please," he said quietly. Tom reluctantly put it in Dumbledore's outstretched hand, feeling a strange sense of loss as it left his reach. Dumbledore also looked at the wand closely once it was firmly in his grasp. The despair increased for a moment before disappearing beneath a face of resignation.

"Good night, Tom," Dumbledore dismissed him, turning toward the Headmaster's office.

"Good night, sir," Tom answered blandly, curious about Dumbledore's uncharacteristic affect and the strange meeting.

The next day, the school was abuzz. Dumbledore had defeated the terrible wizard Grindelwald single-handedly. Though Dumbledore appeared to be acting normally, Tom noticed his piercing stare often over the next few weeks, usually when he was with Hermione. He had not told her about his encounter with Dumbledore that night. He had the feeling that it was something best kept to himself.

His relationship with Hermione provoked feelings in him that he had never before realized existed. He felt something akin to joy whenever she smiled or laughed, even when he was having the most irritating day. If anyone insulted her, it was as if they had attempted to use and Unforgivable Curse on him. In general, he was happier than he had ever been. Tom attributed it to the fact that Hermione was no longer a threat, but rather, if anything, an incalculable asset. Everyone else, especially Slughorn, attributed it to something entirely different and much less mercenary.

NEWTs loomed on the horizon and the seventh-years found themselves under the constant scrutiny of the faculty. Professor LeRue had even begun taking points from her own house if she caught them playing a game of chess or Exploding Snap instead of studying. Though they were probably some of the most prepared students in the history of Hogwarts, the exclusive study group was no less focused, and probably more so, on preparation. Madam Ippenbok had finally been forced to allow them to borrow as many books as them wanted from the library in order to escape the constant barrage of spells and lectures from the back table. The group moved into a spare classroom where they could argue about the causes of the Goblin Wars and the proper way to conjure furniture to their hearts' content.

In what seemed like no time at all, the week of NEWTs arrived. Tom and Hermione had exactly the same schedule for tests, as they had exactly the same classes: Potions, Arithmancy, Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Ancient Runes, Herbology and History of Magic.

Ancient Runes was the first test on Monday. It went very easily for Tom and Hermione. The proctor's eyebrows had nearly risen off of his forehead when they submitted their tests within half an hour. They had researched all and used many of the runes on the test for their mirror.

The potions exam was on Monday afternoon. They were given the choice of several potions, including Veritaserum, Amortentia, Felix Felicis, and Presentia Repugno, a potion rendering the user nearly immune to mental effects of spells or other potions. Hermione chose Presentia Repugno and Tom chose Felix Felicis, unsurprisingly. They were the last students to finish the exam. Both were extremely precise in their preparations, starting to brew the potions over half an hour after the other students. Nevertheless, their results were still as perfect as could be hoped for. Once again, their proctor was extremely impressed.

"I hope you are considering careers in potions," the weedy old man commented with a smile.

"No," Hermione replied, pleased with the compliment. "I'm going to be an Auror."

"What about you, young man?"

"Department of Mysteries," Tom said offhandedly.

"What a pity. I'm sure Horace is devastated," she laughed before escorting them out of the room.

"That wasn't too bad," Hermione commented as they walked to the Great Hall.

"Admit it, you thought it was easy," Tom smirked.

"Well, I think my potion was supposed to be a little darker blue. It was only navy, not midnight," Hermione said worriedly.

"Any darker and it would have been black," Tom replied. "What do I have to do to make you stop worrying about it?" Tom asked, mocking exasperation.

"I'm sure you can think of something," Hermione retorted.

"I think I have the perfect idea," Tom answered. He pulled her around the corner and kissed her for the first time that day.

"I love you, Tom," Hermione whispered as they parted.

"I love you, too," he said before kissing her again.

Neither had noticed when Dumbledore walked around the far corner of the hallway and stopped, silently observing their kiss and hearing them express their presumably true feelings. He left quickly when the couple parted, a great conflict building within him.

The next day they had DADA in the morning. The test was completely practical, something necessary because of the recent conflict with Grindelwald. The first half was protective and the second half was offensive magic. It was conducted in the Great Hall by Aurors from the Ministry.

"Good luck," Hermione said to her friends as they split to find their assigned Aurors. The first spell required was a Patronus Charm. Hermione's otter gamboled about in seconds, even going over to poke Tom's serpent, garnering a slight smile from Mr. Thomson, who had specifically assigned himself to Hermione.

The second spell was any camouflage or invisibility spell. Tom chose a powerful illusion spell, masking not only his visual presence, but also muffling any noise or smells that could give him away to enemies. He had invented it himself in fifth year to aid him in his less-than-legal pursuits.

Tom cast his spell. Immediately, he disappeared. The Auror managed to reveal him only after using the most powerful spells and wards.

Hermione also had her own spell. It functioned much differently, though still very effectively. Instead of hiding her presence, it made any living thing ignore her. They would see her, but not remember her or even process that she was present.

The instant Hermione cast her spell, Thomson used the same spell that had finally revealed Tom. It didn't work. Nor did any of the other spells he tried. Finally, he asked her to remove the charm.

"What spell did you use, Miss Granger?" he asked curiously.

"I invented it," she responded. "It works by causing enemies to overlook your presence instead of just hiding it. Most would never think to alter their own perception instead of trying to remove invisibility spells."

"Ingenious," he marveled. Tom smiled encouragingly at her. She had taught him the spell during their study sessions, but he decided to use his own for the test.

The final spell they were required to perform in the first half of the test was a warding spell. It would be tested with curses and hexes from basic to just below the Unforgivables. Hermione and Tom had collaborated, receiving special permission to cast their spell together. Several of the other Aurors and students stopped to watch.

The spell involved simultaneous casting of two very complex spells. Initially, one caster would absorb the magic from the spells cast on them and channel it to the other to reinforce the shield. Once the shield was strong enough, they could turn their attention to offensive casting, only occasionally strengthening the shield. The only problem was that it required an immense amount of concentration.

Thomson signaled for the pair to cast their spell.

"_Latrocina vires_," Hermione cried. In the same instant, Tom said, "_Arcis impenetrabilis_."

They allowed their ward to strengthen throughout the course of the test. Nothing entered the shield. It seemed as though it would withstand anything. After several minutes, Thomson changed his strategy.

"_Somnium metus!_" he cried. The result of the spell was only visible to Tom and Hermione. It was very similar to being in the presence of a dementor. Thomson had no idea how effective it would be. He only knew that Hermione had a mysterious history that very likely included violent conflict. Tom and Hermione immediately relived their worst memories through a screen of horror and desperation. Hermione saw the Great Hall as it had been after the final battle, corpses littering the stone. She looked away, only to find Harry's incorporeal remains on her other side. The shield weakened. Tom was back in the Riddle mansion, listening to his father scream his rejection at him while he choked him. The shield fell. Thomson cast a quick stunning spell on them, ending the test.

Hermione looked at Tom with such pain that he could barely stand it. Tom hid his reaction better, but there was almost imperceptible tension around his eyes and mouth. She reached out and grasped his hand tightly, not even responding to Thomson's congratulations. Tom responded with a glare, his eyes almost appearing to flash crimson for a split second. Once again, neither noticed Dumbledore watching them from the doorway. They were given a break for ten minutes during which they regained their composure. The second half was much more structured, as the Ministry didn't want to risk one of their Aurors being injured by students, a very wise decision if Tom's mood was any indicator. He vented some of his anger by making imperceptible alterations to the proscribed spells, often succeeding in giving his Auror an unpleasant surprise even through his shield. Hermione completed the test prosaically, though extremely accurately. They left the room together and were silent most of the evening.

While sitting with Tom in his room later in the evening, Hermione finally asked.

"What did you see?"

Tom was silent, reliving the emotions elicited by Thomson's spell. After several moments, he answered.

"My father, right before he died."

"I saw the Great Hall. Their bodies were everywhere," Hermione murmured against his chest, shaking slightly. Tom tightened his arms around her.

"I wanted to kill Thomson," Tom admitted, staring across the room as though it was filled with invisible assassins. "He had no right to do that. We aren't Aurors that to whom he can do anything he pleases." Though it once would have frightened or at least unnerved Hermione, his declaration now gave her a peculiar kind of comfort.

"I should go," Hermione said after a few more minutes. "We have more tests tomorrow."

Tom kissed her differently that night, as though she were something fragile that needed protection and felt strangely bereft once she had gone.

The rest of the exams passed without incident or difficulty. Tom and Hermione were over-prepared and probably could have passed in fifth year, very likely with Es or Os. Neither forgot about the DADA exam, but neither mentioned it again either.

Within weeks, it was graduation. Students' families, even those who were Muggleborn descended upon the grounds for the festivities. Tom and Hermione had tied for first in their class, with Minerva next. Unfortunately, from many students' perspectives, Slytherin had once again won the House Cup, but it didn't matter to Tom or Hermione. They were more concerned with the NEWT results they would receive along with their diplomas. More accurately, Hermione was worried. Tom was sure that they would both receive all Os. He was also sure that the Ministry would hire them both regardless of their scores.

As usual, he was correct about the NEWTs. He was just pointing this out to Hermione when Dumbledore came up to him.

"May I steal Tom for a minute, Miss Granger?" he asked politely.

"Of course," Hermione responded curiously.

Dumbledore led Tom from the Great Hall to his office.

"I know we have not been particularly close during your school years, Tom, but I believe that you have changed significantly since I first met you almost eight years ago. You were determined to fight for what you believed to be rightfully yours, regardless of who stood in your way. In this respect, you have not changed much," he said with a slight smile. "However, what you believe to be rightfully yours has undergone a material change in this past year. I think that Miss Granger is likely the cause of this."

Seeing Tom's impassive features, Dumbledore sighed. He opened a drawer in his desk, withdrew a long, narrow box, and passed it to Tom. Tom opened the lid and withdrew the same wand that he had taken from Dumbledore that night in April.

"I want you to have this," he said. "It is of no use to me and at this point, you are less likely than I to misuse it."

Tom looked at Dumbledore questioningly.

"You have a life to look forward to, future completely of your own making, including a career, love, and a family if you choose. One of these things can never be taken from you. But never forget that you can lose it," Dumbledore said, leaning across the desk, something akin to sorrow in his face. "Sometimes what you thought you wanted most can cause you to lose what you truly need. Love is not something to take for granted, especially with a girl like Hermione," he warned. "But enough of my thoughts, go back and enjoy the festivities," Dumbledore said, his smile not quite reaching his eyes.

Tom was stunned at what had just occurred. He put the wand in his robe, planning to try it later. Today was his last day at Hogwarts, his first real home, and for once, he was willing to put off his machinations. Pushing the conversation out of his mind, he hurried back to the Great Hall, a spring in his step. A casual observer probably would have concluded that he was hurrying back to his beloved.

AN: Remember the title of this chapter? Well, now for the side of guilt. I have a paper due on Thursday that has not yet been started because of revisions for this chapter. It is worth 15 of my grade and is on characteristics of states that help or hinder democratization. I would like to know that this story is still appreciated. Otherwise, my self-esteem might plummet, possibly causing me to become depressed and never start my paper, which might then lower my GPA, thereby preventing me from pursuing my chosen career. Next thing you know, I'm sitting in my childhood bedroom eating ramen noodles as I write emo limericks. The horror! So review. Please? I promise I won't do this again for at least twenty chapters if I get a good response… Yes, that was bribery.


	21. Growing Up

Chapter Twenty-One – Growing Up

Disclaimer: I do not own anything in the original Harry Potter universe.

AN: Wow, I got so many reviews! Thanks! Now, wouldn't you like to do that for every chapter? I know, I know, I promised I wouldn't ask again for twenty chapters. Enjoy the update!

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One week had passed since graduation. More importantly, one week had passed since Tom had seen Hermione. Louisa had convinced Hermione and Minerva to go on a vacation until their respective jobs or training started. It had not taken much coercion at all after Louisa informed them that her parents were paying for all expenses. So they had gone off Switzerland.

"_Who vacations in Switzerland?" _Tom thought irritably as he picked at his supper. He could have understood Egypt or Greece, places of significance in magical history, but Switzerland? Tom gave up on his meal. He had attempted to cook for himself, but inexplicably, he was nearly incapable of the simplest cooking spell. He hoped Hermione was better at it than he was. Otherwise, he would end up spending a good part of his salary at the many restaurants on Diagon Alley.

Tom had spent most of the past week at the Leaky Cauldron while he searched for an apartment. He had received an advance from the Department of Mysteries where he was to start work on Monday, three days away. It had taken him until Wednesday to find the apartment. This was his first day in his new abode. Hermione, of course, had an apartment picked out and paid for in advance three weeks before graduation.

Tom grunted in disgust and stood up from the small table, vanishing the slop he had inadvertently created. Completely without anything else to do, he decided to do laundry. Laundry had always been his least favorite chore at the orphanage. The matron seemed to take great pleasure in watching him scrub out the babies' diapers and various articles of filthy clothing, making it nearly impossible for him to use magic to ease the task. Now, he almost enjoyed it. It pleased him that she was stuck there while he was free with almost no worries about his future. He started going through his robes, removing the stains and using a general cleaning spell. As he was washing the last robe, something fell out of the pocket.

"_I forgot about Dumbledore's gift"_' Tom thought, picking the wand up from the floor. Once again, the raw power of the wand struck him. It was unlike anything he had ever felt. He looked at it for a moment. Deciding that Dumbledore would have no reason to give him a cursed wand, he began casting simple spells.

"_Lumos." _ "_Wingardium Leviosa._" "_Scourgio_." Though always effortless, they seemed perhaps a bit more effortless. He went on to more powerful spells, casting the Patronus Charm. Once again, it was slightly easier than normal and the snake took longer to fade away. Tom was very curious. Why would Dumbledore just give him a wand like this? Dumbledore had never trusted him and had even talked of him becoming a Dark Lord.

"_He must have really wanted to be rid of it," _Tom thought. "_Perhaps he thought it would be most useful to me," _he reasoned after a moment. He could not come up with any other explanation. He returned to his experimentation. Looking around his apartment, he thought it a bit bare. He began conjuring temporary furnishings that he could replace once he began earning his salary. Unsurprisingly, his room was filled with shades of green, silver, and black when he was finished. Stretching out on his bed, Tom fell asleep.

Over four hundred miles away, Hermione, Louisa and Minerva were just leaving a tiny restaurant in the Geneva. The food had been exquisite.

"I wonder what Tom is eating right now," Hermione mused.

"Probably nothing," Minerva replied. "I doubt he has ever had to make his own meals before. He probably won't be able to produce his own food for months."

Hermione laughed. "I hope he can do better than that. After all, he can make potions. How hard could cooking be?"

"You aren't a terribly good cook either, Hermione," Louisa commented. "And you're good at potions."

"True," Hermione admitted. "Maybe I'll send him a postcard telling him about our dinner. He should get it before tomorrow night."

"That would be cruel," Minerva said, "but very funny. I would do the same if Philippe hadn't gone home to visit his mother. Apparently, she is a gourmet cook," she added sourly.

"That's a good thing," Hermione pointed out. "You can make him to all the cooking."

"He would be doing all the cooking anyway," Minerva said wickedly.

"So what do you girls want to do our last night here?" Louisa asked excitedly.

"I don't have any ideas," Hermione said. Minerva nodded in agreement.

"I was hoping you'd say that!" Louisa said. She hailed a taxi and whispered something to the driver. After a few minutes, he let them out on a quiet street corner.

"Where are we?" Hermione asked curiously.

"Just follow me," Louisa ordered, giggling.

She led them into a small café. "Trois, sil vous plait," she said to the hostess, who replied something in French. Louisa showed her wand and gestured to Hermione and Minerva while speaking in French. Finally, the hostess led them to what appeared to be the bathroom. She ushered them into the stall and tapped the wall with her wand. It opened revealing a mass of wizards and witches in a night club.

"T'amuse," she said with a smile before returning to the façade.

"Where are we?" Minerva asked.

"Only one of the most exclusive clubs in Switzerland," Louisa said. "Now go have fun, you've dragged me to enough museums this week for a lifetime," she laughed.

"I can have fun," Minerva said, straightening her robes. Suddenly, she cast a charm. Her robe morphed into a fancy cocktail dress. Seeing Hermione's stare, she said, "What's the point in being good at Transfiguration if you never use it?"

"Can you do mine, too?" Hermione asked.

"Sure." Minerva waved her wand again. Hermione's black robe congealed into a full-skirted halter-top that ended just above her knees.

"Thanks," Hermione said, heading off to get something to drink, leaving Minerva standing at the entrance.

Suddenly, someone's hands covered her eyes. Minerva elbowed her assailant in the stomach before turning around and attempting to knee him in the groin. He was already bent over from her first attack, so she ended up hitting his face instead.

"Are you sure you shouldn't have been a Beater, Minnie?" Philippe asked between groans.

"Philippe! What are you doing here?"

"Do I need an excuse to come see my girlfriend?" he asked, standing up. Looking around, he waved at the people staring at their interchange.

"A little warning would be nice," she grunted. Realizing what she had just done, she gasped. "Are you all right," she asked worriedly.

"I'll be fine, nothing worse than what the Gryffindor Beaters used to do to me regularly," he joked.

"Hello, Philippe," Hermione said, walking over to see the cause of all the commotion. "I thought you were past that point in your relationship," she commented, gesturing to the beginning of a bruise across his cheek.

"Minnie is a very passionate woman," he said, wrapping his arms around his girlfriend, preventing her from smacking him again.

"I leave you to it, then," Hermione smirked, going back to the bar.

She sat there a few minutes, nursing a butterbeer. She didn't want to have hangover when they returned the next day. Someone sat down beside her.

"What's a girl like you doing alone at the bar?" a suave English voice asked.

"Just enjoying her drink," Hermione replied coolly.

"Not fond of dancing?"

"Not with men I don't know," she said, turning to look at the man.

"Then let me introduce myself. I am Alphard Black," he said, smiling widely. He was handsome, with dark brown hair and eyes, probably in his early twenties. He looked very similar to Sirius in his younger days.

"Hermione Granger," she said shortly, turning back to the bar.

"Ah, I've heard of you. First in your class this year, my cousin graduated with you."

Hermione thought for a moment. "You wouldn't be talking about Aulus Malfoy?" she asked, curious.

"Yes, darling little Goldilocks is my cousin. How did you guess? Being a Muggleborn, I wouldn't have guessed that you would have such a grasp on pureblood relations."

"I don't. I just know that Malfoys are about a pureblooded as one can be and the Black's motto isn't _Toujours Pur_ for nothing."

"Very impressive, I'm almost afraid that you have been stalking me," he jested.

"Sorry, but I had never heard of you before tonight."

"What! I guess that shows how worthwhile paying for the title of Most Eligible Wizard is," he shrugged. "I just wanted to make sure that Abraxas didn't get it," he said conspiratorially. "That would be Goldilocks' older brother, in case you didn't know."

"I'm not sure I wanted to know," Hermione grimaced. "There are too many Malfoys already."

"I am very inclined to agree with you on that one," Alphard nodded. "The other families marry Malfoys so often that I'm almost afraid we'll all be albino in a few generations."

Hermione laughed. "You have a much better sense of humour than most purebloods I've met."

"I tend to find garden gnomes more humourous than most of my relations. Now, enough about my family. Who exactly is this Hermione Granger that I've heard so much about from my favorite cousin?"

"She's a Muggleborn who is entering Auror training next week."

"What a coincidence, so am I."

"You, an Auror?" she asked disbelievingly.

"I needed something very time-consuming. There's a whole flock of debutantes who want to marry me. They can't try to catch me when I'm working. That means eight hours of peace, five days a week. More, if I can convince Thomson to give me overtime," he said happily.

"I didn't realize that being an Auror counted as a peaceful job."

"You've obviously never been to a debutante ball," he shuddered.

"Alphard! There you are! Who is this?" a tall blonde witch asked, looking down her nose at Hermione.

"This is Miss Hermione Granger, darling, an Auror-in-training. She just graduated last week with Goldilocks."

"You know I hate it when you call our cousin that vile name, Alphard," the witch said snootily.

"Hermione, this is Miss Morgana Lestrange."

"His fiancée," Morgana added.

"Where's your ring?" Hermione asked impudently, glancing at the blonde's hand.

"We haven't gotten it yet, the jeweler didn't have a diamond large enough in stock," she said angrily. Alphard snorted with laughter and tried to hide it with a cough.

"Let's go, dear," Morgana said, latching onto Alphard's arm and dragging his toward the exit.

"See you on Monday," he called.

"Was that Alphard Black?" Louisa asked, walking over to Hermione.

"Yes. He's going to be in my Auror class next week," Hermione said.

"Ooh, Tom's not going to like that," Louisa warned.

"Tom doesn't have anything to worry about," Hermione said. "Are you about ready to leave? I want to start packing tonight."

"Oui, me too. I'll go tell Minerva that we're leaving. Philippe can bring her back to the hotel."

They apparated to their room and packed. Hermione fell asleep at three thinking of seeing Tom the next day. She woke only once during the night when Minerva came into the room. Hermione could see her kissing Philippe in the doorway. She wished that Tom had been able to come with them before falling back asleep.

They next morning, they turned in their keys and went to the room connected to the Floo network. Tom was to meet them at Diagon Alley at eleven o'clock. They arrived exactly on time. Hermione rushed to hug Tom. He returned the embrace before kissing her, earning catcalls from several of the passers-by. Jason was also waited for Louisa, who threw herself into his arms with a squeal. Minerva and Philippe had decided to stay in Geneva for a few more days. He didn't have Quidditch practice until July and Minerva started work a week later than Tom and Hermione.

Tom levitated Hermione's trunk and followed her to her apartment. It was already stylishly decorated in gold and rich jewel tones of red, blue, and green. Overall, it was reminiscent of the Head common room. It had very large windows with sunlight beaming in. It suited her perfectly, just as Tom's apartment suited him. Hermione sprawled upon her bed, tossing her heels on the floor.

"How was your trip?" Tom asked. He had determined over the past few days never to let Hermione go on another trip without him.

"It was great, but I wish you could have come," she murmured sleepily.

"Why so tired?" he asked sitting down on the bed.

"Louisa dragged us to a club last night," she replied.

"Did you know anyone there?" he asked curiously.

"No, but I met Alphard Black. He's starting Auror training next week too."

"Really? From what I've heard, he never does anything other than waste his family's money."

"I would guess that's correct, but he wants to escape all the pureblooded debutantes," she yawned. "I think I'm going to take a nap. Then we can have dinner here, unless you wanted to cook," she added mischievously, looking up at him through half-closed eyes.

"I suppose I could allow you to cook this once," Tom smirked, leaning down to kiss her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down next to her.

"I missed you a lot," she said.

"I missed you, too." Her arms slackened as she fell asleep. Tom lay there a moment before removing himself from her embrace and going into the sitting room. Choosing a book from Hermione's full shelves, he ensconced himself in a chair, waiting for her to wake up.

A few hours later, Tom had nodded off while reading. He was awakened by Hermione poking him in the side. He caught her hand and pulled her down into his lap.

"That wasn't very nice," he whispered in her ear.

"Falling asleep when you should be welcoming me home isn't very nice either," she retorted jokingly. "Now come help me with supper. Unless you want to cook your own meal," she offered.

"No, I'll help. Anything for some decent food," he said, springing from the chair.

"Not very handy with the cooking spells, Tom?"

"I don't know why they don't work," he stated. "I've never had trouble with any other charms."

"Maybe you are just not smart enough to pull off a perfect seasoning charm," Hermione joked.

"I guess not," he laughed.

Though simple, Tom thought it was some of the best food he had ever tasted. Though he didn't realize it at the moment, it was the first time anyone had cooked a meal for him, something that most would take for granted.

"I'm so excited about starting training on Monday," Hermione said as they put away the dishes and leftovers. "Two years ago, I would never have thought that I would become an Auror, but now I can't imagine doing anything else."

"Two years ago, I had no idea what I wanted to do," Tom said. "I still don't know exactly, but there will be something intriguing in the Department of Mysteries, I'm sure."

"Definitely," Hermione agreed, leaning her head against his shoulder. "I need to go shopping tomorrow. Do you want to come with me?" she asked.

"I don't have anything that I was planning to do," Tom said. "As long as you don't spend the whole afternoon looking at dress robes," he stipulated.

"You're no fun," she complained.

"Now, if you were shopping for what goes under the dress robes, I might be a little more interested," he smirked, then grunted when Hermione poked him.

"Is the slimy snake-boy ticklish?" Hermione asked innocently.

"No more than you are," he replied, "_Rictumsempra!"_

"Stop it, Tom!" she shrieked, laughing hysterically.

"Promise you won't poke me anymore?" he asked seriously.

"I won't kiss you anymore if you don't stop," she threatened.

"I can't have that," he said, removing the spell and moving to kiss her.

"I didn't say that I would kiss you if you did either," Hermione retorted, standing up.

"You definitely should have been in Slytherin," Tom said as she walked to the door.

"I need to go to sleep," she said. "We have a busy day tomorrow. I'll see you at nine o'clock sharp."

"You're getting too bossy. Maybe I should find a more obedient girlfriend," Tom sighed.

"Like Petunia Parkinson?" she asked archly. Tom blanched.

"Maybe not," he agreed. "You're perfect." Hermione smiled and kissed him good night.

"See you tomorrow," she murmured.

In Scotland, Albus Dumbledore sat alone in a dark room. He couldn't bear to go to his family's home, where his sister had lived. All the other teachers had left Hogwarts, excited for the escape from students and time to be spend with loved ones. He, on the other hand, had nothing to be excited about. His life had crumbled around him and he was unhopeful that it would ever rebuild itself.

His sister was long since dead, along with his parents. Grindelwald, his closest friend, would be imprisoned for the rest of his life. He had lost the one thing that might have helped him almost the moment he had claimed it. Ostensibly, he was be free, at least in the Ministry's eyes. _"In reality, I am far more imprisoned than the worst criminal in Azkaban_," Dumbledore thought. _"If only I could have gotten the other two_." He returned his focus to the mirror before him, losing himself in dreams of what his life could have been.


	22. Fairy Tales

Chapter Twenty-Two - Fairy Tales

Disclaimer: I do not own Hermione Granger, Tom Riddle, etc.

Sunday afternoon found Tom Riddle sitting on a bench outside of a clothing shop on Diagon Alley. In his opinion, Hermione was taking an inordinate amount of time.

"_Why am I bothering?" _ he asked himself. _"Surely most boyfriends don't put up with this."_

He decided to see what was keeping Hermione. Upon stalking into the store, he heard a sound disturbingly similar to the one Louisa made while he was dating her. Turning in that direction, he saw Hermione and Louisa looking through a pile of dresses.

"Hermione, I thought you were looking for some new work robes," he said, rather perturbed at her.

"Well, Louisa was here and she wanted help picking out her wedding dress. It made more sense to do it now," she answered sensibly.

"Do you mind if I leave you here and do a little of my own shopping, then?" he asked.

"Of course not, I'll meet you for lunch at the Leaky Cauldron," Hermione said, turning back to the mass of clothing in front of her.

Tom wandered about Diagon Alley for about half an hour before going into one of the many bookshops. This one in particular was his favorite. It sold used books, usually worthless, but occasionally, he had found extremely valuable or helpful books in the huge, disorganized stacks. Today, however, he had no such luck. After combing through the shop for an hour, he had found nothing worthwhile. Picking up one more book, he glanced at the title and snorted in disgust.

"_The_ _Tales of Beedle the Bard, who would read this?"_ he wondered, tossing it back onto a rickety table.

"Be careful with that, it's extremely valuable," the owner admonished, springing up from apparent slumber.

"What's so valuable about it, it's an old children's book," Tom sneered, not even bothering to hide his irritation.

"But it is a very old edition, hundreds of years old," the wizened shopkeeper explained, glaring at Tom. "Maybe there are newer editions, but they are different. No more blood, curses or death, just fairy tales. They don't understand that all these stories were once true, just as Muggles don't think that Merlin existed."

"How do you know that the stories in this book are true?" Tom asked.

"Sometimes one just knows," he said mysteriously. "But if your family is ancient at all, you are descended from one of the Peverell brothers, and if they existed, who knows what they could have done?"

Intrigued against his will, Tom walked out of the shop ten minutes later, the proud new owner of _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_.

"_How did I let him convince me to buy such a worthless book?"_ he wondered. He had glanced through it after purchasing it and decided that the old man was making up things to make another sale. _"Meeting Death after crossing a river, how ridiculous_," he thought. _"Maybe Hermione would like it."_

Tom wandered into the Leaky Cauldron just as the clock struck noon. Hermione and Louisa were sitting at a table surrounded by packages. Tom walked up to them.

"-course you can bring him! I wouldn't expect you to come without a date!" Louisa said apologetically.

"Who is in the wedding party?" Hermione asked curiously.

"A few of my cousins, though I would prefer you. Mother won't allow me to have someone else. I have no idea who the best man is, though," Louisa admitted. "Jason is related to practically all the pureblood families in Britain. His parents will probably choose one of his many cousins, so it could be anyone from a Potter or Longbottom to a Malfoy."

"I can't promise that Malfoy will survive unscathed," Hermione warned.

"I'll be sure to tell Jason," Louisa laughed.

"Hello, Louisa," Tom said before she could begin talking again. He was slightly perturbed that they hadn't noticed him standing next to their table.

"Hi, Tom. How was the bookstore?" Hermione asked.

"Not terribly exciting," he replied. "I got you this, thought you might find it interesting. The bookkeeper swears that the stories are true, but I've always been slightly doubtful of his sanity."

"This looks very old, Tom," Hermione commented, perusing the book carefully.

"He said it was a few hundred years old. You could probably find out exactly how old it is by the enchantments on the illustrations."

"Maybe I'll try that," Hermione said. "I could measure its strength against other enchantments with known ages and get an estimate-"

"How exciting!" Louisa said with false enthusiasm. "I think I'll be going now, I need to meet with Jason's mother for tea. If I don't keep track of her I will end up with gamboge and puce decorations. I'm not sure I would ever have agreed to marry Jason if I had known the colors of their coat of arms!" she joked, gathering her packages and walking up to the fireplace.

"Wood House," she said carefully, throwing Floo Powder into the fire before stepping in. She disappeared instantly, waving at Tom and Hermione.

"What did you buy?" Tom asked dutifully.

"You don't really care," Hermione said with a smirk. "You just think you ought to ask."

"You caught me," he smirked back.

"Of course I did, I'm going to be an Auror. I'll always catch you," she joked.

"Of course," he replied skeptically.

"Are you ready to start work tomorrow?" Hermione asked, taking a bite of her sandwich.

"Yes, though I have no idea what I'll be doing," he answered, signaling to the waiter. He ordered his meal and turned back to Hermione.

"Are you ready?" he returned.

"I think so," she replied. "It can't be too bad the first day."

"I wouldn't be so sure," he cautioned. "I wouldn't have thought that the Head Auror would be nearly as tough on you as he was, either."

"I'll be fine," she asserted.

"Well, if it isn't Tom Riddle," a male voice drawled. "And Hermione Granger," it added with a nearly imperceptible sneer.

Hermione twisted in her seat and came face to face with Aulus Malfoy.

"Malfoy," she greeted him coldly

"Hermione, I thought I wouldn't see you until tomorrow, yet here you are!" Alphard Black crowed, pushing past his younger cousin. Another blond man followed him, glaring at Aulus as he approached. "This is Abraxas Malfoy, another cousin. One can never have too many, you know," he said facetiously.

"Pleasure," the elder Malfoy said, taking Hermione's hand and bowing over it. "I thought you were instructed to remain at home today, brother," he said coolly to Aulus, turning away from Hermione.

Aulus gave Hermione and his brother a hostile look before stalking out of the pub.

"I apologize for my brother, Miss Granger," Abraxas said. "Our father was most displeased with him when he discovered that he was only fifth in his class. The lowest of any Malfoy in three generations," he added in disgust.

Hermione was becoming quite irritated with the elder Malfoy. Even though she disliked Aulus, he didn't deserve such treatment from his own family.

Tom, noticing the rising tension, intervened.

"I'm Tom Riddle," he said, standing and extending his hand.

"I've heard of you," Abraxas said, looking appraisingly at Tom. "First in you class, I believe?"

"Yes, with Hermione," Tom answered.

"Tied?" he said, surprised. "Aren't N.E.W.T.s used as a tie-breaker?"

"We had the same scores," Hermione interjected, feeling somewhat ignored.

"All O's, no doubt," Alphard said, having been silent for longer than he was used to.

"What else would we have gotten?" Tom smirked. He paused. "Who are you?"

"I am Alphard Black," he replied. "I'm devastated that you didn't recognize me from the papers. I thought that I was famous."

"I vaguely remember hearing something about you," Tom mused. He looked thoughtful. "Didn't one of your former girlfriends give you a love potion to make you obsessed with Mr. Ollivander?" he asked.

"That was him," Abraxas said with a smirk. "I've never been prouder of a cousin."

"How did you know about that? I paid hundreds of Galleons to keep it from the press," he hissed.

"I have my sources," Tom smirked.

Hermione had nearly burst with laughter. The image of Alphard serenading Mr. Ollivander outside his shop was absurd.

"What are you laughing at?" he asked, a very affronted look on his face.

"Nothing at all," Hermione said between giggles.

"Of course," he said sarcastically. "I'll see you tomorrow; hopefully by then you will no longer be laughing at my misfortunes."

He left, dragging Abraxas with him.

"You met him in Switzerland?" Tom asked, recalling what Hermione had said the day before.

"Yes, at the club Louisa dragged us to," Hermione replied, poking at her now soggy sandwich.

"What do you want to do the rest of the day?" Tom asked after thinking about the Black heir for a moment.

"I think I'll go back to my apartment and get everything ready for tomorrow. I don't want to have to hurry in the morning."

"That sounds like a good idea to me. I need to bring documentation for all original research I did during school for them to look over before they assign me to an area."

"I can help you with that," Hermione offered.

"That would be nice," Tom agreed gratefully. Uncharacteristically, he had not packed very carefully. It could take a while to find everything.

They went back to Tom's apartment and spent several hours sorting through a mountain of papers. Tom had kept summaries of nearly all the books in the Restricted Section and hadn't kept them separate from his research papers, making it very difficult to find anything. Hermione was less help than he had hoped, because she was constantly glancing through the papers and disagreeing with him on his conclusions.

"I'm not sure you're helping," Tom sniped exasperatedly.

"Of course I am. It's good to correct your mistakes even if they aren't urgent," Hermione retorted, lapsing into prefect-speak.

"Why don't you go read a book while I finish this?" he suggested, trying to keep himself calm.

"This is much more interesting. Oh, you've read _Obscure Forces of Destiny_," she said, noticing a summary on it.

"Yes, I found it behind a book on Animagus chimeras."

"Imagine that," Hermione said, taking the lengthy parchment from the pile and sitting on Tom's bed.

"I don't know why you're reading that," Tom commented nonchalantly, sifting through more papers. "You know more about the magic described in it than anyone else alive."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked.

"You told me that you came through a portal to get here. It wasn't that difficult to guess which one. The Portal fit your description exactly."

"Another secret discovered," Hermione sighed, realizing that he was completely correct. "I should have guessed that you would find out. I just didn't want you to use it."

"I don't even know where the portal is, and I doubt that you would tell me," he said, smiling slightly.

"No, I wouldn't," Hermione admitted.

"Well, I don't need to go through a portal to escape my fate, I'm more than happy with the one have" he said, looking at her with a faintly lascivious smile across his lips. She blushed and looked away.

"I should go do my own work," she said, moving toward the door. Tom sprung up from the floor and caught her arm before she left.

"I thought we had gotten past you ignoring me," Tom smirked as he pulled her closer to him.

"If you keep making comments like that, we'll never get past it," Hermione retorted, half-heartedly trying to pull her arm from his grasp.

"Have I mentioned how beautiful you look when you're irritated with me?" he asked innocently.

"I don't remember," she said, trying to hide a smile.

"I'll have to make this memorable then," he said, leaning toward her.

A few minutes later, a flushed Hermione exited Tom's apartment. Gathering her wits about her, she went down to the fireplace on the first floor to Floo to her own apartment.

Tom laughed after she left. How easily he was able to affect her was amusing.

Hermione laughed in her apartment. "_It's so funny how I can get him to kiss me by ignoring him. He's so different from Ron. If I ignored him, he would start looking for a new girlfriend."_

The next morning, Hermione woke up at 6:00 to get ready for work. She bathed and picked out professional black robes along with stylish yet comfortable shoes. She cooked a full breakfast of eggs, bacon, fried mushrooms, hash browns, and toast. By seven o'clock, she was ready to go. She grabbed the plate of food she had prepared for Tom and her bag and went over his apartment.

Tom had awoken at six-thirty. He was just sitting down at the table with a cup of coffee, not wanting to risk upsetting his stomach with his abysmal cooking on his first day of work. Suddenly, someone pounded on his door. Tom guessed immediately that it was Hermione and opened the door with a wave of his new wand. He smelled the food she had brought with her the second she stepped through the doorway.

"Thanks, Hermione," he said, taking the plate from her hand and kissing her on the cheek. "You really need to teach me how to cook sometime."

"Maybe I will. How else will I be able to get you to cook for me," she laughed. "You should hurry," she said, looking at her watch. "It's almost a quarter after seven."

"I don't start work until nine," Tom said, swallowing a bite of toast.

"Lucky, I have to be to the Ministry at eight," Hermione replied.

"You always get up early anyway," Tom said.

"True. I think I'll leave now, I don't want to be late my first day of work," she said. "Do you want to meet me for dinner at the Pegasus Café?"

"What time?"

"Six, I think. I have no idea what time orientation will be done," she admitted. "I better go," she said, looking at her watch again and heading off.

Tom waved goodbye as he took another bite of egg and began reading his paper.

Hermione arrived at the Ministry via the Floo Network at 7:40. She went to the room in the Auror Department indicated by the letter she had received at graduation. Unsurprisingly, no one else had arrived. She waited for ten minutes. When no one else came in, she decided to ask the department receptionist.

"Excuse me, could you tell me where Auror trainees are supposed to go for orientation?" she asked politely.

The blonde woman looked at Hermione. "I'm sorry, but you can't interrupt training."

"I _am _in Auror training," Hermione replied irritatedly.

"Really? I'm sorry, miss. You need to go to the Atrium. They were leaving from there at 8:00 sharp. You had better hurry."

Hermione took off at a dead run and arrived back at the Atrium at 7:59. Thomson had just ordered the trainees to grab hold of a Portkey.

"Miss Granger, glad you could make it," he said gruffly. "If you had been late, we would have left without you."

Hermione was quite irate that she hadn't been notified of the change, but decided against saying anything. She looked around the group. Alphard winked at her when she made eye contact with him.

"Hold on," Thomson ordered. Hermione felt the usual jerk and landed gracefully seconds later. She took great pleasure in seeing a few of the others dumped unceremoniously on the ground. She looked around her. They appeared to be in a forest. The underbrush was thick with no visible paths out of the clearing they had landed in.

"Welcome to the Forbidden Forest," Thomson said. "Though I'm sure many of you have been here before. You will be put into groups of three. Your task is to find three signs of dark activity and keep your group intact for eight hours. Shoot a flare with your wand when you find evidence. If you are attacked, which you will be, you may use any means at your disposal short of the Unforgiveable Curses. Do not worry about harming your attackers. However, if you attack other trainees, you will fail this task and it is very unlikely that you will be allowed to continue training. We don't want Aurors who can't recognize friend from foe. Any questions?" he paused. "Good. Take one of these rings. They will allow us to track you and determine your group." All the trainees took a ring and put it on their finger. The rings were simple, a silver band with a piece of clear glass embedded in it. When Hermione put hers on, the glass turned dark red. She began looking among the thirty other trainees for the rest of her group.

"Hermione, are you a red?" Alphard asked, coming up beside her.

"Yes, you are too?" she asked.

"Yeah, and so is Dawlish here," he said, indicating the wiry brown-haired man next to him.

"John Dawlish," he introduced himself, looking at Hermione. "You are a new graduate from Hogwarts?" he asked.

She nodded.

"I graduated two years ago and worked in Magical Law Enforcement until I decided to become and Auror," he clarified. "You better be able to take care of yourself. I don't want to fail this task because of some girl who decided to try Auror training."

"Don't worry about me," Hermione ground out.

"Get moving," Thomson barked. "Time started five minutes ago." With that, he Apparated.

"We better start searching for those signs," Alphard said, hoping to defuse the argument. "Do you think they stole one of the goblets my mother uses to collect blood from the house-elves?" he mused, walking toward the edge of the clearing.

Hermione snorted and followed him. Dawlish glared at both of them for a moment and jogged to catch up. They walked for about five minutes before Hermione motioned for them to stop.

"Look at this," she said, pointing to the ground.

"What is it? I don't see anything," Dawlish asserted.

"See those shiny spots?" Hermione said. "That's unicorn blood. No one would harm a unicorn unless they were using the dark arts. It is better to die than to remain living after using unicorn blood." She sent up a flare with her wand.

"Let's keep going," Dawlish said, glaring at Hermione and stalking away from them.

"Stop moving," Hermione hissed.

"Why?" he asked belligerently.

"Look up," she whispered.

Directly over his head was a large acromantula, at least a foot across. Hermione quickly stunned it and walked past Dawlish, who resumed glaring at her. Alphard smirked and followed her.

They wandered through the forest two more hours without incident.

"Umm, I think I saw something following us," Alphard said quietly. Hermione turned to the left and looked surreptitiously behind Alphard. She saw a flicker of a black cloak that disappeared into some brush.

"We need to try to follow them without them knowing it," Dawlish said.

"Why would we do that?" Hermione whispered. "If we keep going, we'll know exactly where they are. If we know where they are, we can be better prepared. If we go crashing around in that brush looking for them, we will have lost our only advantage. Let's keep looking for evidence."

"I'm with Hermione," Alphard said, shrugging at Dawlish.

He snorted and nodded sharply, motioning for her to get moving. They caught sight of their stalker several times over the next two hours.

"I found something," Alphard said. "This plant shouldn't be here. It's native to India. It's called Devil's Tea. It tastes and smells exactly like black tea, but kills whoever drinks it three or four days later, making it almost impossible to tell who gave it to them."

"I've never heard of it," Hermione admitted. "Are you sure?"

"He's right," Dawlish said. "I remember it from Herbology." Alphard sent the flare up.

Suddenly, the black shape that had been following them appeared. It was a man, though they couldn't see his face. He charged at Alphard. With coordination only developed through years of athletic pursuit, Alphard moved to the side just in time to cause the assailant to stumble past him. He cast a stunning spell, but the attacker blocked it and sent a similar spell back toward Alphard. Hermione shielded Alphard from the spell, causing it to bounce back. The wizard dodged it and cast a Blood-Letting Hex at Dawlish. Dawlish couldn't move quickly enough to completely avoid it. It clipped his wand hand, making him drop his wand.

"I can shield all of us," Hermione shouted to Alphard. "Disarm him!"

Hermione focused and cast a shielding charm over the three of them. With its protection, Alphard was able to concentrate well enough to disarm the wizard with _Expelliarmus. _Hermione then dropped the shield and shouted, "_Petrificus Totalus_!" Caught off guard, the enemy wizard froze and fell to the ground. Hermione bound him with a spell and gagged him in case he knew wandless magic.

"Good work," she complimented her teammates. "Now let's take care of that hand," she said. "I think I have a first aid kit in my bag." She found the kit and gave Dawlish a dose of Blood-Coagulating Potion and wrapped a bandage around his hand. "You can take care of it later, that should hold the rest of the day."

"Thanks," he said sheepishly, having realized that she was just as prepared as he was, if not better.

"You're welcome. Come on, we still have one more sign to find and four hours to go."

"As you command, your Highness," Alphard joked, bowing mockingly.

Hermione glared at him, before laughing quietly.

"Glad you finally admitted it," she quipped.

Apart from a few more spiders they were not attacked for several hours. They had found the last needed sign, a runed goblet that would put all who drank from it into a death-like state for one hundred years. They would have missed it if it Dawlish hadn't tripped over it. It had looked like an oddly-shaped rock until Dawlish had knocked some of the moss off of it.

At three-fifty, they were suddenly accosted by an invisible person. None of their disillusionment charms worked on it. They had managed to block the spells but didn't know where to aim their spells. Hermione suddenly remembered learning about heat vision in Muggle science class. She cast a charm used to show food temperature on the area around her. The witch was immediately visible. Not realizing that she had lost her advantage, she didn't even attempt to block the Stunning Spell shot at her by Dawlish.

It was now four o'clock. They felt a pull as their rings were turned into Portkeys. They landed back in the clearing. A few of the trainees were lying on the ground unconscious. Most of the others, like Dawlish, were sporting makeshift bandages and showed bruises and dirt on their exposed skin.

"We will go over the results of this task tomorrow. You are free to leave. Black, Dawlish, and Granger, please come see me before you leave," Thomson said.

They dutifully walked over to the Head Auror.

"You only found two signs, Devil's Tea and a cursed goblet. I'll give you two minutes to explain before I remove you from training."

"There was unicorn blood on the ground right outside of the clearing," Hermione said. "I can show it to you if you want."

"Go."

She quickly retraced their steps and pointed to the spots of unicorn blood on the ground.

"There was too much for it to just be an accident because unicorns heal extremely quickly. It was injured purposely and there aren't any large predators in this forest other than acromantula, and they don't attack unicorns."

Thomson examined the ground for a minute.

"Good work. I will go alert the Hogwarts groundskeeper of this. Your rings will take you back to the Ministry."

They were immediately transported back to the Atrium. Hermione looked at her watch.

"I'll see you tomorrow, I need to get back to my apartment," she said, stepping up to the closest fireplace.

"Say, what are you doing tonight?" Alphard asked, coming up next to her.

"I'm going out to dinner with Tom," she said, grabbing a handful of Floo Powder.

"Is he your boyfriend?" Alphard asked.

"Yes, not that it's actually any of your business," Hermione said right before she stepped into the flames and disappeared, leaving Alphard staring after her, a strange look on his face.


	23. The Second Portal

Chapter 23 - The Second Portal

Disclaimer: I make no money from anything.

Tom sat at the small table eating his breakfast and reading _The Daily Prophet_ for twenty minutes after Hermione left. He then pulled on his usual black robes, gave his hair a cursory combing, and waited until a quarter to nine. He didn't want to seem too eager about his first day of work, though he would never have admitted that he was actually excited. He had always come off as disdainful toward those who labored for the institution. Tom didn't want to appear to be allowing himself to be used by the Ministry for its own ends; he was the one who used people.

At ten before nine, Tom stepped into the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic. He took the elevator down to the Department of Mysteries. The receptionist was an old witch with startlingly white hair. She looked at him, but didn't say anything. After a few minutes, Tom realized that she wasn't going to say anything to him without being addressed first.

"Could you please tell me where new employees are supposed to go?" he asked politely.

"You're a new employee? Have you even graduated from Hogwarts yet?" she asked in a grandmotherly voice with an undertone of steel.

"Just this year," Tom answered, smiling charmingly.

"That's odd, usually our employees have worked in the Ministry for at least seven or eight years before transferring to the department," she said, reexamining him.

"One of my professors thought I was particularly well suited for the Department of Mysteries and recommended me," he said.

"Oh, Morgana recommended you. I remember when she first started here. She only stayed a few years before going to teach at Hogwarts, but she was quite an asset to the Time division," the receptionist reminisced.

"I don't believe I got your name," Tom said tactfully.

"No, you didn't. I'm Verana Trelawny, Head of the Department of Mysteries." Tom opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off. "Yes, my aunt was Cassandra Trelawny the Seer, before you ask. My specialty, however, is the Space division, where mathematics melds with magic."

"That's a rather unusual sentiment," Tom commented.

"In some ways, Muggles are superior to wizards in their understanding of the universe," she shrugged. "If Einstein were to find out about magic, he would probably be able to understand it better than any of our top arithmancers. Muggles are used to having to prove things. All too often, magic users say, 'It must be so,' and leave it at that, much to our detriment." She paused for a moment. "Enough of philosophy. Have you given any thought to what area you are best suited for? Morgana sent a mirror that you made over for me to examine, and I have to say that I think you would do quite well in the Time division, but you are definitely allowed to explore the different areas to find which one is most to your liking."

"I think I would prefer that, ma'am," Tom agreed, still thinking about her rather peculiar perspective on Muggle science.

"Don't call me ma'am, Riddle. You can call me Trelawny or Verana. You will find most in this department to be far more concerned with research than pandering to the fools who make up most of the Ministry."

Tom hid a smirk. "All right, Trelawny. Pleased to be working with you."

"Since you are the first one here, you can choose your office. Not that it makes much difference; you'll almost never be there anyway and you can change the window scenes to whatever you want. I wouldn't recommend the one in the far corner, though. The pipes carry noise from the lower floor directly into the room."

"I'll keep that in mind," Tom said, walking down the hallway toward which she directed him.

It didn't take long for him to decide to take the corner office. "_Hearing parts of sensitive trials might be helpful_," he thought, listening carefully. Soon he was able to pick out snatches of speech. He couldn't hear what was being said, but that could easily be solved by a well-cast charm.

He went back out to inform Trelawny of his decision. When he reached the reception area, the head of the department was deep in conversation with a stressed-looking wizard with a grizzled beard and dusty robes, looking as though he had been seated at the same desk for several weeks without moving.

"I've been staring at that archway ever since Nichols fell through," the wizard said. "I'm not making any headway on it. We should have just left it blocked off," he sighed.

"Have you made any progress on the runes?" Trelawny asked.

"None, I haven't been able to find them in any of the books in the Ministry library, not even in the rare manuscripts section. It's as if whoever created it wanted to prevent anyone from understanding it, which doesn't make much sense."

"Do any of your assistants have any ideas? I don't care how ridiculous they are at this point. Nichols' mother wants his body and has started to complain to the Minister about how I run this department. She won't get anywhere, but it's a damned nuisance," she stated harshly. She turned as saw Tom standing behind them.

"Tom, how would you like to assist Mr. Hollis with his research? No one has made any progress on that arch at all. Maybe you could offer a fresh perspective. Mr. Hollis will brief you on it." Her tone implied that it was not a matter of choice. Tom, for once, was not bothered by this. The conversation he had overheard had been very intriguing.

"I'll get started immediately," Tom agreed.

"Come with me, er… what's your name?" Hollis asked, walking stiffly down another hallway, beckoning for Tom to follow him.

"Tom Riddle."

"Hmm…I've never heard that name before? Are you a Muggleborn?"

"No, a half-blood," Tom said shortly.

"What was your mother's name?"

"I never met her," Tom said, skillfully avoiding the question. "I grew up in a Muggle orphanage."

"You must be very talented to excel to such an extent without a magical background," Hollis said, a hint of interest in his voice. "Maybe they're finally giving me an assistant with something other than bubotuber pus in his head," he muttered to the side.

"I would like to think so," Tom said wryly.

"Here we are," Hollis said, opening the door at the end of the hallway. "This will feel a bit strange the first few times, but you'll get used to it."

Tom stepped through the door and felt as though he was spinning in place for a few seconds.

"Eventually you won't even notice it," Hollis said, opening one of the identical doors in the circular room. "Through here."

Tom entered the room. It was empty other than a dais with a stone arch upon it and some parchment scattered on the floor. He looked more closely at the arch. Its interior was covered by a veil that fluttered as though moved by a breeze, but the air in the room was still and stale.

The stone of the arch was inscribed with hundreds of runes of many different origins. Tom recognized Celtic, Baltic, Germanic, and Greek runes at first glance. Very few of them were commonly used.

"You are now officially an Unspeakable. You will not be able to tell anyone anything that I say past this point. If you read your contract thoroughly, you know what I'm talking about."

Tom nodded.

"This room had been sealed for several hundred years until recently. It opened inexplicably about nine months ago. Nothing was here except for that arch. Being currently out of favor, I was assigned the task of researching its function. My assistant David Nichols and I tried for several months to decipher the runes, but could barely translate any of them. Two months ago, I stepped out of the room for a minute to speak with Trelawny. When I came back in, I caught a glimpse of Nichols disappearing through the arch. No one has any idea where he went. There have been no sightings and we can't launch a normal investigation without compromising the integrity of the department. Nichols' family is very influential; his mother is the Minister's second cousin. Let's just say that the Minister has quite a bit of interest in our progress and leave it at that. First off, we need to figure out those runes. Then maybe we can discover what happened to Nichols. Any questions?" he asked briskly.

"None," Tom said, already stepping up to the arch.

"Be careful, from what I've heard about you, you'd be a much greater loss than Nichols. I'll compile a set of notes for you containing everything we have about the arch. Come by my office and pick it up at the end of the day. Feel free to come tell me if you have any questions or make any headway."

Tom made no reply. He was already engrossed in the runes. He summoned a piece of parchment and began scribbling possible translations for the large runes on the keystone of the arch. Hollis looked at him, astonished.

"I'll check on you in a few hours," he said, staring at Tom a moment longer before leaving the room.

When Hollis returned, Tom had filled three feet of parchment with translations. He had quickly realized that many of the runes were the same as the ones in _Obscure Forces of Destiny_. Hence, they were virtually unknown to the modern wizarding world. On top of this, the arch's creator had translated many of these runes into other languages, forming a code that would have been indecipherable without specific knowledge of certain key phrases also used in the book. It was almost as if they had wanted to prevent anyone from ever discovering what the arch did.

"What do you have?" Hollis asked curiously when he entered.

"Here," Tom said, tossing him the parchment without looking away from the section of runes he was working on.

"Why did you translate all of the runes into this dialect of Celtic?" Hollis asked. "I've never seen it before, let alone learned to read it."

"Some of the phrases appeared to have the same structure as phrases that I have seen before in this dialect," Tom answered, turning his attention to Hollis. "Then I noticed that there was a pattern for which script each rune was carved in. It appears very similar to a Vigenère cipher, with the key being a pattern of seventeen. The position of the rune in the phrase was added to the corresponding number in the pattern. Prime numbers were left in Celtic, multiples of five were translated to Greek, et cetera."

"You found that out just today?" Hollis asked incredulously.

"Yes, it wasn't too difficult once I knew what to look for," he shrugged.

Hollis exhaled strongly. "Have you translated the phrase at the top of the arch?" he asked hopefully.

"Yes," Tom answered cautiously.

"Well?"

"It has to do with a void, almost a parallel universe really. One of the translations I made was 'Portal of Inevitable Fate.' Whoever made this arch either had a flair for the dramatic or was working with extremely dangerous magic," Tom ended.

"Inevitable fate? That will go over well with the Minister," Hollis sighed. "I think you've done enough on this for one day. Take your translations to the library. Ask for O'Moriarty. His specialty is Celtic runic script. He should be able to help now that you've translated the other runes. Hopefully the two of you will come up with a translation a little more palatable to Mrs. Nichols."

"Where is the library?" Tom asked.

"Go back to the lobby and Trelawny will tell you. She'll be at the receptionist's desk all day to meet the new employees."

"I'll see you tomorrow," Tom said, leaving the room and Hollis staring at the translation.

Upon arriving back in the lobby, Trelawny looked up from the mound of files on the desk.

"Back so soon?" she asked.

"I translated almost all of the runes into the Eóganachta script. Then I could translate several of them into English. Hollis suggested that I take what I have to O'Moriarty in the library."

"Good idea, the library is through those doors," she said, pointing at the ancient-looking double doors across the lobby.

"Thank you," Tom said, heading toward them. "By the way, when do I have my lunch break?" he asked. It was past noon and he was quite hungry.

"You better take it now," she said, looking at her watch. "Once you start talking with O'Moriarty you won't be going anywhere for several hours, that I can guarantee. I would recommend the cafeteria for now. They give employees a fifty percent discount, and the food isn't bad, though it is nowhere near Hogwarts quality."

Tom ate his tuna sandwich quickly and was back down in the Department of Mysteries fifteen minutes later. Trelawny looked over her reading glasses at him for a moment before going back to her work.

The library doors closed behind him with a thud. The library was a huge room with thirty foot high shelves piled with manuscripts, books, and seemingly miscellaneous papers. Tom approached the wizened man at the desk near the entrance.

"I'm looking for an O'Moriarty," he said in a hushed voice. The little man silently handed him a map with labeled dots on it and pointed to one of the dots. Tom looked closer. The dot was labeled O'Moriarty and was stationary on the far side of the room. Five minutes later, Tom was approaching the scholar's desk. He had to stretch to see over the massive piles of books surrounding the Irish man.

"I'm Tom Riddle, Hollis sent me to talk to you about some translations," he introduced himself.

The man sprung up from his chair. He appeared to be about thirty years old, but his skin was smooth and pale, the result of not seeing natural light for more than five minutes for over ten years.

"I already told him that I couldn't help him. I only work with Celtic runes, not Greek or Norse," he said exasperatedly.

"I know. He told me. I translated all the runes into Eóganachta script."

"How did you manage to do that?" the red-haired man asked excitedly.

"Well, it was a code. I recognized some of the phrases, so I figured out the key and rotated the runes-"

"I really don't want to know. You can call me Brian, by the way. Now, let's see your translation."

"Where have you seen this script before?" he asked Tom after glancing over the parchment.

"Some old book in that used bookshop on Diagon Alley," he lied, not wanting to explain the book Hermione had used to get to his time. "I looked through it a few weeks ago, but when I went back, it was gone."

"You must have an amazing memory," Brian said skeptically. "Most of this is right, but there are a few mistakes that I noticed. This is the dialect my ancestors used. Knowledge of it has been passed down in the family, but it has been forgotten by everyone else, or so we had thought. Take a seat, rather make a seat, since I only have one chair."

Tom conjured a chair and made himself comfortable. He could already tell that he wouldn't be leaving for several hours.

At five o'clock, he told Brian that he needed to leave. Between the two of them, they had figured out over two-thirds of the translation.

"I've having dinner with my girlfriend at six, so I need to get going," he said, looking at his watch.

"I'll work on this more tonight. I'll give it to Hollis tomorrow morning. Some of the runes don't translate well into English, so you probably wouldn't be much help for the rest of it anyway," he said, not even looking up from the parchment.

Tom was somewhat insulted, but decided against commenting. He hadn't accepted the job to sit in a library all day.

At six o'clock, he met Hermione for dinner at Pegasus Café on Diagon Alley. She had had an extra hour and appeared much more refreshed than he.

"How was work today?" she asked cheerfully.

"Quite taxing," he admitted, pulling out her chair for her to sit. "I can't really talk about it," he added apologetically.

"I spent most of the day stumbling around in the Forbidden Forest," Hermione said. "We had to find evidence of dark arts and keep our group intact for eight hours. We were attacked by an acromantula and two wizards. I think they were Aurors helping with training for the day."

"Sounds interesting," Tom said.

"Did you like your work today?" Hermione asked.

"Yes, but translating runes wouldn't have been my first choice assignment."

"I thought you couldn't talk about it."

"If I can talk about it, I may talk about it," he clarified. "There's an enchantment that prevents Unspeakables from talking about confidential information in front of people outside of the department."

"I wonder what spell they used for that." Hermione said.

"I'm sure you could figure it out if you really want to know," Tom smirked.

"Maybe I will," she said.

"Who is in your group?" Tom asked, going back to her training.

"Alphard Black and John Dawlish."

"Black? Was he useful as anything more than a diversion?" Tom asked skeptically.

"Actually, he seems very intelligent. He caught a few things that I missed," she admitted.

"I'm surprised, he's supposed to be a complete fop with nothing in his head other than air," Tom said, taken aback and slightly irritated by Hermione's assertion of Black's intelligence.

"That's what I thought, too."

They talked a bit more about Hermione's training until their dinner arrived. Then they ate and Tom walked Hermione to her apartment since they were only a few blocks from it.

"See you tomorrow," Hermione said, kissing his cheek and turning to walk into her apartment.

Tom pulled her back and kissed her more intensely for several seconds.

"You can go in now," he said, smirking at her somewhat dazed expression. Hermione's eyes snapped open as she glared at him.

"Forget about breakfast tomorrow," she said, walking in and slamming the door. She leaned against it and smirked in a very Slytherinian fashion. '_One, two, three, four, five-'_ she counted mentally.

Tom Apparated in front of her.

"What a terrible thing to threaten," he drawled, arms crossed.

"What an ungentlemanly thing to say," Hermione retorted.

"Will you ever forgive me?" he asked, mocking heartbreak.

Hermione suddenly kissed him forcefully. When she stepped back, it was his turn to look dazed.

"I think about it," she said impishly, trying not to laugh at his expression.

"I think I better leave," Tom sighed. "Good night." He disappeared from her apartment.

"_How did he get past my anti-Apparation charms?_" Hermione wondered after he left.

AN: Very few changes happening for a few chapters here. Because I remember the reviews from the first time around, I'm just going to tell you straight off, the Apparation wards mean NOTHING. Just a little something for fun. Don't be fun-suckers : ( Or I will hold the next chapters hostage until I get 20 reviews. See, no begging in sight.


	24. Auror Testing

Chapter 24 - Auror Testing

Disclaimer: I don't own.

Tom and Hermione's second day of work began much the same as the first had. Hermione awoke early and made breakfast for Tom. She arrived at the ministry at quarter to eight, and he arrived at quarter to nine.

Upon Hermione's arrival, an owl dropped a memo into her hands. _"I forgot that they still use owls_," she thought randomly. She opened it.

It read:

_Miss Granger,_

_Please report to the Auror Headquarters on Level 2 for training._

_Head Auror Thomson_

Hermione immediately made her way to the room. Once there, she was escorted by a serious-looking wizard to a smaller adjoining room.

"I am Greeley," he introduced himself. "Yesterday you began your orientation," he said, gesturing for her to sit in the single chair in the center of the room. "As one of the successful trainees, you will be undergoing an aptitude and character test this morning. I will cast a spell on you that will give you the illusion of being in various situations. Assistant Head Auror Redding and I will monitor your actions by means of this enchanted window," he gestured. "You will not be physically injured. Your main task is to stay alive and demonstrate your ability to think calmly under pressure. Are you ready to begin?" he asked.

Hermione nodded.

"You will have a few minutes at the beginning to get used to the illusion," he added, walking into the adjoining room separated by a clear wall.

Hermione suddenly found herself in the deserted Atrium of the Ministry. Even the receptionist was absent. Greeley was right. It was very odd to feel like she was both moving and not moving.

"What are you doing there?" an unfamiliar man asked her, stepping out of a lift.

"I work here. Who are you?" she began to ask, but was cut off as he attacked her. He was not a difficult opponent, leaving himself almost completely vulnerable whenever he cast a spell. She disarmed and bound him within two minutes.

"Good work," she heard what she assumed to be Redding's voice say. "We'll move on to the real thing now."

The room blurred and Hermione was in a dark clearing. It was quite cold. She looked around trying to figure out where she was. It wasn't the Forbidden Forest. The ground was too soft. She gingerly took a step but moved back when her foot sunk three inches into the mud. She quickly cast a water-proofing charm on her shoes and robes and began walking. After a few minutes, she saw a hint of light ahead and a glint of someone's eyes glancing in her direction. She stepped behind a tree and cast her camouflage spell on herself. A large wizard dressed in black lumbered past her, searching for whatever he had seen. Eventually, he went back to his fire.

"What was it?" his companion asked.

"I couldna' find a thing," he said. "Get on with it, will ya?"

"Here is the money I promised you," the smaller man said.

"How much?"

"One hundred Galleons."

"I risked my neck for one hundred Galleons? We agreed on two hundred minimum with a bonus for making it look like an accident. Do you have any idea how difficult it was to get close enough to the Minister to poison him? I went through three Polyjuice Potions just to get into the kitchen!"

"This is all I brought with me," the small man whined. "I can ask my employer for more, but it will take at least a week."

"That's too late for you," the large Scot said, drawing his wand from beneath his robes.

"Avada-" he began.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Hermione said, stepping from behind the tree and removing her camouflage.

"Ya think yer enough ta stop me?" the poisoner asked. Without pause he attacked. Hermione dodged and through up a shield.

"I know I'm enough," she taunted him, trying to get him angry and thereby more reckless. "You don't see me attacking someone without giving him a chance to defend himself."

He roared at her and charged. She side-stepped his attack.

"_Petrificus Totalus_," she cast. He froze instantly. Hermione looked around the clearing. The other man was gone.

"Damn," she cursed. She bound the assassin and cast a Sleeping Charm on him to keep him until she returned. Using the same cooking spell as the day before, she searched for anything generating heat in the vicinity. The small man was moving very quickly in a circle trying to get behind her. She didn't think he would attack, but if he got too far away she would never be able to catch him.

Keeping her eyes on his location, she cast a Silencing Charm around herself and began moving to intercept him. It was astonishingly simple. She walked up and stuck her wand into his chest.

"Keep your hands where I can see them," she ordered.

He quickly put his hands up. Getting a better look at him, Hermione realized that he was only a year or two older than she.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

"I was paying Mecklejohn for my employer. I didn't even know what he was supposed to do!" he said, sounding frightened.

"Who is your employer?" she asked.

"I can't say," he said.

"Why not?"

"I would like to tell you," he said pleadingly, "but I _can't_."

"You are under a charm to prevent you from saying your employer's name?" she asked curiously.

He nodded.

"Can you tell me if someone isn't your employer?" she asked.

He nodded again, nervously.

"That ought to be good enough," she said, satisfied. "Walk ahead of me back to the clearing to get your assassin."

The scene shifted again. Hermione found herself in the midst of a battle.

"Granger, help me out over here," a witch in black robes with the Hogwarts crest called. Hermione looked down and saw the same robes on herself. It appeared that many others were wearing similar robes. The enemy wizards and witches were wearing plain black or scarlet robes. Hermione hurried over to the witch, who was being attacked by two large wizards in black robes. Just as she reached her, the witch was felled by a Stunning Spell. Hermione looked around, hoping that someone would be able to help her. She only saw another enemy wizard coming toward her.

She instantly cast a shield around herself that would block all spells except those of extremely powerful wizards. Spells from two of her attackers bounced off. The third, dressed in a blood-stained red robe, was apparently more skilled. Hermione felt a Blood-Letting Curse graze her left arm. It also disrupted her shield. The other two wizards immediately began attacking her. Knowing that she wouldn't be able to sustain a powerful enough shield with the onslaught, she took the offensive. She silenced the first wizard with Langlock, turning her attention to the second wizard. Her leg was slashed open by the red-robed wizard as she cast a Petrification Spell on the other wizard. Determining that he was the most dangerous, she turned to face him. She gasped in shock. He had the same face as the Death Eater that had killed Ron in the battle at Hogwarts.

Her mind burst into angry flames. No longer worrying about her safety, she attacked with abandon.

"_Sectumsempra!"_ she cried, smiling with satisfaction when a deep cut appeared across the wizard's chest. He attempted to cast the Cruciatus Curse, but she gracefully dodged. Hermione had forgotten the exhileration of battle over the past year. Now all her skills flowed back to her. She disarmed him while he attempted to staunch the bleeding. Remembering her duel with Tom, she cast her final spell.

"_Skjære magus_!" she shouted vindictively. The wizard attempted to cast a spell on her, but was shocked when nothing happened. Remaining focused on him, she dispatched of the wizard that she had silenced. Turning back to the man in the red robe, she saw him look behind her, eyes wide. Her own eyes widened. It was someone she had never expected to see again.

Snake-like eyes gleamed crimson from a skeletal face. Hermione nearly dropped her wand.

"_Lord Voldemort,_" she mouthed silently. He smiled maliciously at her. Knowing there was nothing else she could do, she ran. After a few hundred yards, she tripped over a fallen Auror. It was Harry. Grasped in his hand were Gryffindor's sword and the Slytherin locket. Realizing what she need to do, she wrenched them from his stiff hand and brought the sword down on the center of the locket. There was a flash of green light and the locket disintegrated. She screamed as she was hit with the Cruciatus Curse.

Forcing herself to turn, she came face to face with Lord Voldemort. He was furious with her, having realized what she had just done. Hoping that it had been the last Horcrux, she took a deep breath.

"_Avada Kedavra!_" she whispered, waiting for a Killing Curse to hit her. When none came, she opened her eyes. She was back in the small room in the Auror Headquarters. Coming out of the trance, she became enraged. She leaped from the chair and walked over to where Greeley and Redding were standing behind the window.

"Where the hell did that come from?" she shouted, swearing uncharacteristically.

"Calm down," Redding said. The Assistant Head Auror straightened her glasses before responding. "Apparently, I should have told you that some of the scenarios are drawn from your own experiences. In most cases, those are the easiest ones. If I had known what would happen, I would have created a different scenario for you. Now, would you like to tell me why you felt it necessary to cast the Killing Curse on that wizard?"

"No, I wouldn't," Hermione retorted.

"Then you can tell Thomson," Redding replied. Thomson dropped his invisibility spell and stepped out from the adjoining room.

"Please follow me to my office, Miss Granger," he ordered, walking out of the room. Hermione followed him, thoughts whirling as she realized that she had just demonstrated her willingness to use Unforgivable Curses.

"Sit down," he said when they reached his office. Hermione sunk into one of the hard, dark wood chairs across from his desk.

"First off, you did extremely well on the first two scenarios. You managed to create an outcome that any Auror would be pleased with. However, I have some very significant problems with how you handled the final scenario, the one based on previous experiences. I will give you a chance to explain your actions."

"First off," Hermione ground out, "you should have warned me where the scenarios would come from."

"That would have defeated the purpose."

"What was your purpose? Finding out how I work under pressure, or invading my mind?" Hermione asked aggressively.

"If you were any other trainee, you would find yourself without a job right now," Thomson warned. "I will give you one more chance to explain your questionable actions. The battle appeared to be taking place in Hogwarts. Strange, since there have been no battles there for hundreds of years."

"Ask your questions. I'll decide whether or not to answer. That's all I can give you," Hermione bargained.

"Fine. When did this battle occur?"

"I can't answer that now."

"Why did you choose to use the Magic-Severing Curse?"

"Most dark wizards don't understand that power and magic are two different things. It was the best short-term choice since there was less chance that he would be able to block it."

"What was the other curse you used, _Sectumsempra_?" he asked.

"It magically cuts into whatever you are attacking and is very difficult to reverse with normal clotting spells. If not treated, the victim will usually bleed out within minutes."

"Why did you use it?"

"He was obviously trying to kill me. I didn't want to have to worry about him later," she shrugged, affixing a look of boredom on her face, knowing what he was about to ask.

"Who was the last wizard that you fought?" Thomson asked.

"A dark wizard," Hermione replied coolly.

"Did he serve Grindelwald?" Thomson asked, knowing that he had never heard of a wizard with that appearance.

"No," Hermione laughed humorlessly. "Grindelwald would have served him if they had ever met."

"Who was he?" Thomson asked again.

"I can't tell you."

"Why did you destroy that locket?" he tried, moving on.

"It was a Horcrux. I had to destroy the piece of soul in it before I could kill the wizard."

"Why did you need to kill him?"

"Did you see all the dead bodies around me?" she asked incredulously. "He and his followers killed them all. I had no one left after that battle. If I was going to die, he was coming with me. I would never have been able to survive a duel with him. It was my last chance, one that I never got in reality."

"So how did you escape?" he asked skeptically.

"I looked dead. I never actually had to fight the leader in battle. My friend did and died."

"Ordinarily, I would remove you from training, but I think the Minister would agree with me that we would rather have you on our side than a free agent for whoever seeks out your services. You will remain in training, but will train separately from the others with me. This is not choice. It is an order. You are done for the day," he said grimly.

"Thank you, sir," she said emotionlessly.

It was only eleven o'clock. When Hermione arrived back in the Atrium, another memo was dropped to her. It was from Minerva, asking her if she had time to meet for lunch in the cafeteria. Hermione looked at her watch and sat down on a bench to wait for forty-five minutes before going to the cafeteria.

At eleven forty-five, Hermione met Minerva.

"How was training this morning?" Minerva asked cheerfully.

"I'll tell you about it later," Hermione said covertly.

"Okay."

"How do you like your job so far?" Hermione asked, not wanting to ruin her friend's day.

"It's great!" she replied. "My boss is practically a legend and she tells stories about cases she's worked on all the time. Right now, I'm working on evidence from a possible murder. The man accused of it is in Azkaban, but Dumbledore sent a letter saying that he thought it was someone else. He didn't say who, though. I can't really tell you anything else," she finished apologetically.

"I understand, Tom can't tell me about his work either," Hermione sighed. Thinking of Tom immediately brought to mind her illusory battle with Voldemort earlier that morning.

"Minerva, divine beauty incarnate, I thought I was taking you out for lunch today!" Philippe said from twenty feet away.

"Be quiet," Minerva ordered, blushing. "I only had half an hour. I sent you a note telling you to meet me at the Leaky Cauldron for dinner tonight."

"The Leaky Cauldron? But I haven't seen you since…Sunday. Dress up, I'll pick you up at seven," he said leaning in to kiss her briefly, earning himself a light slap.

"Some things never change," he said to Hermione. "How have you been?" he asked politely.

"Fine, training started yesterday, so they're spending most of the time trying to weed out the less able among us instead of actually training us."

"Oh, they do that in Quidditch, too," he sympathized. "It'll get better after this week."

"It had better," Hermione muttered. Philippe looked at her askance for a moment.

"Well, I'm sure you have work to get done. I'll see you tonight, Minnie," he said, kissing her lustfully before moving to leave. Before he could escape, a loud smack was heard throughout the cafeteria.

"I love you, too, Minnie," he grinned cheekily, rubbing his reddening cheek.

"He does that on purpose," Minerva fumed after he left. "He just wants to embarrass me."

"I think you like it," Hermione said.

"You're insane."

"Probably. I'm off for this afternoon, so I think I'll go back to my apartment. Feel free to stop by after work if you want my help getting ready for your big date," Hermione smirked.

Down eight levels, Tom didn't even realize that it was time for lunch. He had been sequestered in the library with O'Moriarty since nine o'clock working on the runes and trying to find records of when the arch had been brought to the Ministry and from where it had come. He hadn't found anything and O'Moriarty had summarily told him that he wasn't needed for the rest of the translation. This meant that Tom was little more than a librarian for the day.

"_Hopefully, Brian will finish translating that so I can figure out where Nichols disappeared to. Maybe I'll see if I can borrow _Obscure Forces of Destiny _from the Hogwarts library. It might help,"_ he reasoned. Not a minute too soon, the clock struck five and he was free to leave. Just as he was about to exit the department library, O'Moriarty caught up with him and pressed a stack of parchments into his hands.

"Here's most of the translation," he told Tom. "I'm sure that they are correct, but I have no idea what they are referring to. That's your department. Come back tomorrow and I should have them all finished."

Tom left, hopeful that he would find something interesting in the papers.

When he arrived at his apartment, Hermione was sitting at the table. He was surprised that she had gotten past his wards. He had spent a lot more time on them then she had on her own. Seeing his curious look, she said, "I had plenty of time, I got here at noon."

"You didn't have work?"

"I had a test this morning. They put me in an illusion to watch how I reacted to different scenarios. They didn't like the spells I used, so I am now being trained separately so they can keep a better eye on me," she scoffed.

"What did you expect?" he smirked. "That they would congratulate you and send you out to single-handedly finish up Grindelwald's supporters?"

"It would have been preferable," she grumbled.

"If you care to instruct me, I will attempt dinner," he offered.

"This ought to be funny," Hermione said, smirking at him and heading into the kitchen.

An hour later, they were eating slightly dry roast beef and only barely undercooked potatoes. Tom was quite pleased with his results. They were exponentially better than his previous attempts.

"This is actually edible," Hermione said, taking another bite of the beef.

"What are you insinuating?"

"Nothing."

"Why did you get sent home early?" Tom asked, broaching the subject he had been wondering about since he arrived.

Hermione explained to him about the test and the battle.

"I couldn't tell him that I was from the future. I don't know what the Ministry would do with me."

"Probably send you down to the Department of Mysteries and never let you out," Tom said.

"Exactly why I couldn't tell him," she agreed.

"Once you finish training, you won't have to worry about it anymore."

"I hope you're right, otherwise I might ask for a transfer to work with you. I wouldn't want you to make mistakes without me to fix them," she smirked.

"I seem to remember it being the other way around," Tom rejoined.

"Men, always changing things to fit their fancy," Hermione mocked.

"If that was the case, you wouldn't talk back nearly as much as you do now."

"You know you would miss it."

"Miss the constant abuse? I doubt it."

"Then I guess I'll leave you to do the dishes," Hermione said, placing her napkin on the table.

"I cooked, doesn't that mean that you have to do the dishes?" he asked plaintively.

"No, that only works when a couple is married. You're out of luck. I'm going home now; I've had a tiring day and you smell like musty parchment."

She kissed him on the cheek and tried to Disapparate. When it didn't work, she looked suspiciously at Tom.

"I renewed the wards when I came in," he revealed.

"Then I'll use the fireplace downstairs," she sighed, suddenly exhausted.

"Wait, you forgot something," Tom called as she walked down the stairs. He jogged down to her.

"I love you," he murmured before kissing her gently.

Remembering the test, Hermione hesitated before responding. "I love you, too," she finally sighed. She touched his cheek. "Good night."

That night, Hermione was tormented by nightmares and memories of the battle. She had successfully blocked them from her mind for several months, but that morning had brought them all back. She began wondering again what Ron and Harry would think of her relationship with Tom. After tossing and turning for several hours, she fell into a restless sleep.


	25. Seeing Death's Face

Chapter 25 - Seeing Death's Face

Disclaimer: I would I owned said piece of work, but lawyers then would round me lurk.

Hermione woke at five o'clock the next morning. She hadn't slept more than an hour at once the whole night. This time, she didn't even bother trying to go back to sleep. She had been awakened by a terrible dream. She had been kissing Tom and then heard Harry yelling at her. She turned to look for Harry. He was standing across a cemetery, pointing at something. Hermione looked where he was pointing. Tom morphed into Lord Voldemort as she watched helplessly. She screamed silently when he sent a jet of green light toward Harry, sitting up in her bed, soaked from perspiration.

"_Tom won't become Voldemort_," she insisted to herself. _"I've changed too many things for the future to remain the same."_

Not feeling up to facing the subject of her thoughts, she pulled a random book off of her shelf to pass the time before she needed to leave for training.

At eight o'clock sharp, Hermione arrived at the Auror Headquarters. She had come to a decision. She would do only what was absolutely necessary to pass her training. Once she finished, she would leave the Auror Department and try to get into the Department of Mysteries.

"Good morning, Granger," Thomson said gruffly as she entered his office. "Today is your first day of real training. As I said yesterday, you will be training individually with me. You may be required to work with the other trainees, but only occasionally. Today, I am going to work with you on resisting basic hexes and curses. The goal is to be able to shrug off the effects even when you fail to shield successfully. Are you ready to begin?"

"Yes, sir," Hermione replied, already determining to do badly enough that he would put her back in with the other trainees.

"Through here," Thomson said, gesturing to a door that had opened with a wave of his wand. It led to a large empty room. "This is where you will do most of your training."

Hermione nodded.

"You are not to use your wand during training today. Just try to resist the spells I cast, none of them will do lasting damage."

He began by casting _Tarantellegra_. Hermione made no attempt to block it, but was surprised when she felt no effects. He cast another petrifying spell, she didn't catch which one. Once again, nothing happened.

"Have you done this before, Granger?" he asked, pausing for a moment.

"No, I'm not even doing anything," she protested.

"Then why aren't these spells affecting you?" he asked irritably.

"I don't know," she answered, then remembered something. "My ring, it shields me from basic hexes." She mentally kicked herself after she finished. There was no reason for her to tell him that.

"Where did you get it?" Thomson asked curiously.

"It was a Christmas gift."

"From whom?"

"My boyfriend."

"And his name is…"

"Tom Riddle."

"Ah, he's working in the Department of Mysteries, correct?"

"Yes."

"Where did he get it?"

"He made it for me."

"Really? It appears to be a very complicated bit of magic. Take it off, you need to know how to do this without any help. Nicodemus," he called. A small black owl flew into the room. Thomson quickly scrawled a note on a bit of parchment and handed it to the bird.

"Take this to Trelawney in the Department of Mysteries."

"What are you doing?" Hermione asked.

"Asking her to send Tom Riddle up to see me at lunch. , take that ring off and try to resist my spells."

Hermione removed the ring and was immediately hit with a Bat-Bogey Hex. Her determination to appear utterly incompetent was severely tried. She hated the Bat-Bogey Hex more than any other except the one that had caused her front teeth to grow like a beaver's. She forced herself not to resist it. Thomson then cast another spell that engulfed her in a giant bubble that floated around the room. She still didn't respond. Then, to her abject horror, he cast the spell that had been the cause of many tears in her Hogwarts years. Her teeth began growing at an astronomical rate. Unable to stop herself, she focused and threw off the hex, quickly shrinking her teeth back to their original size.

"Good job, Granger, it usually takes several days to learn this technique. Apparently, your vanity is more powerful than most Auror's willpower," he commented.

Hermione bit back a sharp retort.

"We'll continue practicing this technique until lunch," he said. "I want to find the most advanced spells you are capable of resisting."

"Get on with it, then," Hermione muttered. Thomson glared at her.

With her plan of appearing talentless in tatters, Hermione took some joy in resisting the spells and occasionally reflecting them back at him using wandless magic. She barely managed to hide her laugh when she caught him with a nasty charm that caused him to grow thick white hair all over his body. It vaguely reminded her of when Draco was turned into a ferret by Crouch in fourth year.

Before she knew it, it was time for lunch.

Breakbreak

Tom was awake most of the night reading through the massive stack of parchment that Brian had given him.

"_I don't know how he managed to translate this much when I can barely read it all,_" Tom thought sleepily at four in the morning. He had decided to make a cursory glance through the documents but quickly became engrossed in the translations.

A phrase suddenly caught his eye.

_Only one who hides from death's all-seeing eye may part the veil and enter death's realm as an honored guest. Only one who looks into death's face may part the veil and find the one lost._

The next day at work, Tom went directly to Mr. Hollis' office.

"Mr. Riddle, have you found something?" his supervisor asked anxiously.

"Maybe," Tom replied, handing Hollis the sheaf of paper containing some more important phrases from the translations.

Hollis perused the documents for several minutes. Finally, he looked up.

"What the hell can hide someone from 'death's all-seeing eye?'" he asked exasperatedly. "If it was regular eyes they wanted to hide from, we wouldn't have a problem. But death, you would have to be able to hide all aspects of life. Odor, heat, magical signature, all nearly impossible individually, let alone at the same time. And the last part is the worst of all. Look into death's face, ridiculous. When death has a face, tell me," he snorted.

"At least you can tell Nichols' mother that he is dead," Tom said.

"We don't know for sure," Hollis sighed. "Just because he wasn't 'an honored guest' doesn't mean he isn't still a guest. If there is a small chance that he is still alive, I don't want to deal with the Minister. Also, if he is pronounced dead without a full understanding of that arch, the arch will be sealed in that room for a few more centuries. I'm fairly sure I won't still be around then and I've spent too much time on it to give up now. Why don't you go talk to O'Moriarty and see if he has any texts that use similar language? There isn't much more to do with the actual arch until we understand this gibberish."

Tom nodded and left. It was about what he had expected.

"Back so soon, Tom? I thought I had given you enough to last at least a week," Brian said, emerging from behind his parchment-stacked desk.

"Most of it wasn't very important, but this section seems to have potential," Tom said, handing the paper to O'Moriarty.

"Yes, I remember that part. It sounded vaguely familiar, but I wasn't able to place it."

"Then I need all works dealing with death from the first millennia A.D., preference given to works originating in Great Britain."

"I both envy and pity you, Tom. Nothing to do but read ancient texts, but nothing to read except the most ridiculous works on metaphysics ever written. You can get started with that shelf," he gestured. "The books you're looking for take up six bookcases, so it looks like I'll have some company for a few years," he smiled, his pale blue eyes giving him a slightly unearthly look.

"Wonderful," Tom ground out. _"If I had known that I would be spending all my time in here, I would be in the Black Forest by now," _he thought irritably. _"Hopefully, these books aren't as terrible as he made them sound."_

They were. Tom was extremely relieved when O'Moriarty called out to him that Trelawney wanted to see him before lunch. He hurried out of the library and down the hallway to her office.

"I have a request from Head Auror Thomson that you join him for lunch in his office. He didn't say why. Since he is likely to become Minister of Magic eventually, you ought to go, but don't worry about being overly polite. You're in my department, so he can't do much of anything to you," she said with a smirk.

"When should I take lunch, then?" he asked.

"Now would be fine. Don't forget to tell me what Thomson wants. If you have a problem with it, I could probably get you out of it."

"Thanks. I'll go now."

Tom made his way up to the Auror Department. To his surprise, Hermione was also in the office when he entered, eating a turkey sandwich with a very irritated look upon her face.

"Good morning, Hermione," he said smiling.

"Hello," she replied sourly.

Thomson cleared his throat.

"Hello, sir," Tom said politely.

"I'm sure you're wondering why I wanted to see you."

"A bit," Tom agreed.

"This morning, Trainee Granger brought a ring that you had made for her to my attention. I want to know how you made it so that we can reproduce it for Aurors' use."

Tom thought for a moment. "How much is it worth to you?" he asked shrewdly.

"Are you trying to bargain with me, young man? It won't work. I had hoped that you would be reasonable about this, but now I'm going to have to send the ring over to the Experimental Magic Department," Thomson bit out.

"Wish them luck. They will need it if they want to find out how I made that ring. But first, don't you need a warrant to take that ring from Hermione?" he asked with an overly polite smile.

"The Minister hasn't revoked the Wartime Search Act, so no, I don't," Thomson retorted. "Give me your ring, trainee. You're done for the day. Now get out of here, both of you."

Hermione tossed the ring on the desk. Her finger felt odd without it. She hadn't taken it off since Christmas.

"I'll make you another one, Hermione," Tom consoled her. "There were a few things I wanted to change anyway." Hermione smiled gratefully at him as they walked out the door, leaving Thomson seething behind them.

"Merlin, am I glad to be out of there," Hermione breathed once they were farther from the door.

"Sounds like your job is about as much fun as mine," Tom commented. "I've been stuck in a library all morning, and not even a clean one. There are spiders and dust everywhere. Good thing I'm not allergic."

"What are you researching?" Hermione asked curiously.

"I can't tell you. Too bad, you would probably be able to help."

"Let's just say, once I'm done with training, I wouldn't be opposed to switching to the Department of Mysteries," Hermione replied. "Maybe I would be able to help then."

"By then, the research I'm doing will be worthless anyway. I don't have a lot of time to figure it out. I could try asking Trelawney to give you clearance so I could tell you about it, but the chances of her agreeing are minuscule. I don't think she's busy right now, if you want to talk to her."

"Why not? Anything would be better than training with Thomson. He's going out of his way to make things as difficult for me as possible, not to mention constantly trying to get me to talk about myself," she snorted. "It would be at least bearable if I were training with the others, but he's afraid that I would be a bad influence."

"Oh, he's definitely right about that. You've been a terrible influence on me," Tom smirked.

"Of course, now you know how to smile, you can cook at least one meal, and have developed your inner romanticism. I have turned you into a great catch for any witch."

"Exactly, you've been a bad influence. And I was already a great catch."

"Of course you were. That's why you never had a girlfriend before seventh year. They would rather stare at you than actually date you. Most of them would have been equally happy with a picture of you."

"I have no idea what you're talking about. Here we are," Tom said, opening the door to the Department of Mysteries. Trelawney was sitting at the front desk waiting for them. She stood and walked over to them.

"Hermione Granger, I believe. Pleasure to meet you," she said. "I'm Verana Trelawney. Has Tom convinced you to leave those bumbling fools upstairs yet?"

"No, but give him time," Hermione smiled, already liking the Department Head.

"I actually brought her to speak with you about my work. I think that she would be able to help a great deal if I were allowed to talk about it with her and show her some of my notes," Tom said.

"Why is she more able to help you than anyone in the Department?" Trelawney asked.

"She has seen … similar artifacts and runes before."

"Really? I would like to speak with Miss Granger alone for a moment, Tom. Why don't you go to your office? A few memos came for you while you were gone," she said pointedly. Tom nodded and walked down the hallway to his office.

"Now, Miss Granger, why don't you tell me where you have seen a stone arch with Celtic runes on it?"

Hermione was shocked. _"Tom is working on a Portal like the one I found? And he found out how I got here," _she realized.

"I don't trust you enough to tell you that, no offense."

"None taken," Trelawney assured her. "Working with the Aurors is enough to make one distrustful of everyone. I think that I will allow Tom to include you in his research," she decided. "However, you are going to have to sign a contract to ensure that you don't tell anyone anything about the department. If Thomson wants to know what you are doing, he will need to come to me."

Hermione smirked. "That will be fine."

"I thought you might appreciate that. And furthermore, I have heard that you are significantly more advanced than most trainees. I should be able to get you out of training once per week to come down here and help Tom. The rest of the week, you will need to work with him outside of the Ministry. Is this agreeable to you? If you would prefer not to miss training-"

"No, that's fine with me," Hermione interrupted.

"I think Fridays would be ideal. I'll send a note up to Thomson and another to the Minister. Don't worry about it, they both owe me a few favors," she said with a wicked gleam in her eyes.

"Thank you, I'll look forward to working in your department," Hermione said, pleased with the outcome. She would ask Tom about the Portal later.

"Percival," Trelawney said to a black cat that had emerged from under the desk, "go fetch Tom, please."

Tom arrived two minutes later.

"Tom, Hermione will be working with you every Friday down here and has full clearance for your work. However, she may not go into any of the other rooms. Also, she may not remove books from the library, but that shouldn't be a problem."

"Thank you," Tom said.

"If she can help you with that arch, I'll be thanking you. Now go get some lunch, since Thomson didn't give you any."

"How did you know that?" Hermione asked curiously.

"He never eats lunch, so he doesn't think anyone else ought to either. Now go, or do I have to fire you for the day?"

"I'm going," Tom said innocently. "I just need to talk to O'Moriarty for a minute."

"Fine," Trelawney sighed. "Talk to him, then take the rest of the day off to brief Hermione on your project."

"Yes, ma'am."

Trelawney glared at him for a second before waving her hand and going back to her office.

"This is the library," Tom said, opening the door for Hermione. "I want to show you the books I'm going through and introduce you to the wizard who helped translate the runes on the arch." He guided her through the stacks, having to prod her several times when a particularly rare book caught her interest.

"Hello, Tom," O'Moriarty said from behind his desk. "Who have you brought with you?"

"This is Hermione Granger. She will be helping me with the arch. Hermione, this is Brian O'Moriarty, Celtic rune expert."

"I don't remember hearing about you," the redhead said, creases forming on his forehead. "Were you just hired?"

"No, I'm training to be an Auror, but I have experience in this area and Tom thought I would be able to help."

"Oh, this is your girlfriend? I have heard about her."

"How have you heard about her?" Tom asked, surprise evident in his voice.

"You'd be surprised what the ghosts and portraits know," Brian replied with a slight smile.

"They talk about me?"

"Well, you are the youngest Auror in two centuries," he added.

"I'm not sure if I should be flattered or worried," Hermione said.

"Oh, probably both," Brian joked. "Were you going to show her your shelves or should I?" he asked Tom.

"I should probably brief her on the arch before we start going through more books," Tom said. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Bye, then."

"Nice meeting you," Hermione called over her shoulder, earning a glare from the little librarian that materialized from behind a shelf.

"Come over to my apartment and you can read through my notes," Tom suggested.

Hermione acquiesced and they floo-ed to the apartment building.

"I changed my wards so that you can Apparate in," Tom said after they had stepped from the fireplace. "Why don't you try them so I know if it worked."

Hermione focused and found herself in the middle of Tom's apartment. Tom popped in beside her seconds later.

"I should do that with my wards," Hermione mused.

"I would greatly appreciate it," Tom said mock-seriously. "Do you want me to order us some lunch? That sandwich you were eating earlier didn't look very appetizing."

"It wasn't," Hermione admitted. "I think Italian would be nice. I don't care what you order."

Tom jotted down an order and tied it to his owl's leg.

"It should get here in twenty minutes or so," he said. He walked over to the table and started digging through his copious notes, pulling out a few papers and forming a new pile. A minute later, he had a stack of twenty or thirty pieces of parchment for Hermione.

"This should be enough to start with," he said.

"I think I'll wait until after we eat," Hermione decided. "It's possible that I won't stop to eat dinner once I get started," she admitted.

"Good, I didn't eat anything for breakfast," Tom said. "After all, the only things I am capable of cooking are potatoes and a few kinds of beef, and that only thanks to my girlfriend."

"I should have told you that I wouldn't be over this morning," Hermione said guiltily. "Once I change the wards, you can Apparate over if you want. Then I won't have to carry the food with me."

"Or I could just learn how to cook my own breakfast," Tom said. Hermione laughed.

"Oh, I started reading that book that you bought me, _Tales of Beadle the Bard_. Some of the stories are quite intriguing, especially if you take into account what the shopkeeper said."

"Maybe I'll borrow it from you sometime."

They chatted about books and work for until their food came. They ate quickly, wanting to get started on Tom's notes.

"So, about nine months ago an Unspeakable disappeared through a stone archway in the Department of Mysteries. The runes on it call it the Portal of Inevitable Fate," Tom began. He explained the code and translation, showing Hermione what they had so far. Finally, Tom gave her the sheet with the part that had caught his attention early that morning.

"Death's all-seeing eye…death's face…it sounds familiar. Hidden from death and seeing death, or maybe the dead?" Hermione murmured as she read. She paused for a moment. "This sounds like it is describing the Deathly Hallows! It was in that book you gave me! I read it just this morning." Hermione quickly Apparated to her apartment, grabbed the book from her couch, and reappeared before Tom could say a word.

"Look," Hermione said, pointing to a few paragraphs. "The cloak hides you from death and the Resurrection Stone lets you see people who have died. It's too close to be a coincidence!"

"So you need two of these Hallows to be able to go through the arch. But Nichols didn't have any of them," Tom said.

"That just means that he isn't a guest and can't bring back people from the other side of the veil. In order to bring him back, you are going to need both the cloak and the Resurrection Stone."

"I've never even heard of them before. It will be nearly impossible to find them."

"Nearly, but not completely. We can at least try," Hermione said. "Now let's keep going through these notes. We can tell your supervisor tomorrow."


	26. The Betrayal

Chapter 26 – The Betrayal

Disclaimer: Not mine.

They spent the rest of the afternoon going through books and parchment, trying to find clues about the location of the Deathly Hallows. They were mostly unsuccessful.

"Maybe we should go ask that shopkeeper about Beedle the Bard," Hermione suggested. "He said that the stories were true, so he must know something about it."

"Fine," Tom agreed, "and we could pick up something for dinner, unless you wanted to cook."

"No, I think you've already had everything that I can make," she admitted. "Once you learn how to make spaghetti and breakfast, you'll know about as much as I do."

"You led me to believe that you were practically a gourmet chef," Tom accused lightheartedly.

"No, I merely let you believe what you wanted to," she retorted primly, gathering her purse and outer robes.

"You really ought to have been in Slytherin," he smirked.

"Possibly. Now come on, the shop will probably close within the hour."

They Floo-ed to the main Diagon Alley fireplace and walked briskly to the small shop. It appeared to be empty of people, customers or otherwise, when they arrived.

"Hello," Hermione called from the door. "Is anybody in?" They walked further into the store.

"What are you looking for?" a gravelly voice asked from behind a bookshelf.

"Are you the owner?" Hermione asked.

"Yes, he is," Tom murmured when the man came into view. If possible, he looked even older than he had earlier in the week.

"We had some questions for you about a book that Tom purchased earlier this week," Hermione said politely.

"Ah, yes, _Tales of Beedle the Bard_, one of the rarest books I have had in my shop," he said, smiling slightly at Hermione, much to Tom's amazement.

"You said that the stories were true. How do you know for sure?" Hermione asked.

"Because they are the same stories that have been passed down in my family for generations. My great-grandfather used to tell me the story of the Peverell brothers when I was young. He said that hundreds of years ago, our family guarded the Resurrection Stone. It passed to the other side of the family long ago. We haven't had it since before the founding of Hogwarts, when Slytherin supposedly had it."

"Slytherin had the Resurrection Stone?" Tom asked intently.

"That is the last anyone heard of it. Most think he hid it shortly after he left Hogwarts," he old man shrugged.

"What about the other Hallows?" Hermione asked.

"I have no idea. Why are you asking me all these questions? The Hallows are lost, and the wizarding world is better for it, if you ask me."

"Did your family have any stories about other magical items created by the Peverell brothers?" asked Tom.

"Not that I can recall. What in particular are you looking for?" the old man asked cagily.

Hermione looked at Tom questioningly. He nodded.

"A stone arch, or a doorway, covered with runes. We think it was created by the Peverells," she said.

"Have you seen one of these arches?" the shop owner asked.

"We can't answer that," Tom said before Hermione could respond.

"So you have," the old man said shrewdly. "Well, it won't hurt to tell you a bit about them, then. Come with me." He led them to the back room and motioned for them to sit in the old wooden chairs by a table piled with old books.

"Most wizards, if they look carefully enough, can find out about the existence of the Deathly Hallows," he began. "All the old families can trace their ancestry back to a Peverell, so many of them still remember the old stories. And the Elder Wand was never very subtle in history," he chuckled. "However, it takes an inordinate amount of luck to ever come across anything referring to the arches the Peverell brothers created. I dare say that no one alive today knows where they are or what they do, except the people in this room. Would either of you like a spot of tea?" he asked, pausing in his narrative.

"Yes, please," Hermione answered.

"No, thank you," Tom added.

"Here you are, Miss…"

"Hermione Granger," she said.

"Well met, Miss Granger. Are you a Muggleborn? I don't believe I have ever heard the name Granger," he commented.

"Yes, I am," Hermione replied calmly.

"I thought so. Very impressive that you have discovered one of the greatest secrets of the Wizarding World without even having grown up in it," he commended her. "And you are?" he asked Tom.

"Tom Riddle, sir."

"Hmm. How is your tea, Miss Granger?"

"Absolutely horrible," Hermione said, before gasping and covering her mouth.

"Wonderful." The old man quickly sealed the door behind them. When Tom moved to pull his wand out, he found nothing. The old man chuckled.

"It seems that the Veritaserum has taken effect, Miss Granger. Why don't you tell me how you know about the Peverells' portals?"

Hermione tried to resist, but couldn't. The Veritaserum he had used was extremely potent. Tom tried to move closer to the shopkeeper, but was stopped when the old man pointed his wand at Hermione.

"Now, Tom, you can't begrudge an old man his curiosities," he chided. "Well, Miss Granger?"

"I...uh...went through one to get here."

"Which one?" he asked, an unnatural light gleaming in his eyes.

"The Portal of Thwarted Fate."

"Ah, so you also found _Obscure Forces of Destiny_. Very impressive. Where did you come from?"

"Hogwarts," Hermione answered, trying to evade his question.

"Perhaps I ought to ask _when _did you come from, Miss Granger?"

"Fifty years in the future," she answered miserably.

"Stop," Tom ordered, trying to move closer. "Why are you asking her these questions?"

"Back away, boy. I'm not harming her. Do you know why the Portal sent you here?" he asked, returning his attention to Hermione.

"I'm not sure."

"Why do you think it might have sent you here?" he tried again.

"To change the future."

"How?"

"To stop a dark wizard from conquering the wizarding world."

"Who was this dark wizard?" he asked, stepping closer to her.

Hermione looked desperately at Tom. _"Help me,"_ she mouthed. He shook his head regretfully.

"His name was Lord Voldemort," Hermione finally answered, looking beseechingly at Tom.

"What was his real name?" the wizard questioned.

"Tom Marvolo Riddle," Hermione answered, averting her face from Tom.

"Marvolo, a Gaunt family name, how interesting," the old man mused. "Then you are also descended from Slytherin himself." Tom ignored him.

"Hermione, how could you not have told me?" Tom asked, making a pained face. "You have lied to me ever since you arrived in the library. Did you care for me at all, or was it just a mission: keep Tom Riddle from becoming an evil Dark Lord?"

"It wasn't, I love you," Hermione insisted. "I just took Veritaserum! You have to believe me," she pleaded.

"Sorry, Miss Granger, but I only put enough in your tea to last for five minutes. They were up as soon as you said Mr. Riddle's name," the old man said.

"Just leave Hermione. Get your things from my apartment and leave. Hopefully, I will be able to work with you by Friday," Tom said coldly.

Tears formed in Hermione's eyes. "Tom..." she began.

"Go."

She rushed out of the door, which the shopkeeper had conveniently unlocked.

Once she was out of the store, the man turned to Tom.

"Excellent performance, Tom. If I didn't know your type of wizard as well as I do, I would have believed you. Out of curiosity, how long have you known about your possible future?"

"A few months," Tom shrugged.

"Why have you kept her around then?"

"She is useful. She is intelligent enough to help me and too much a Gryffindor to realize that love doesn't conquer all. And she is quite attractive, as I'm sure you noticed."

"Are you sure that's all?" the old man asked.

"You think I care for her?" Tom asked, his face perfectly still.

"Your willingness to attack me before you knew of my intentions was not a rational thing to do. Had I not disarmed you, it is very likely that we would have dueled."

"It was an act for her benefit," Tom said through clenched teeth.

"Of course it was," the man said skeptically. He paused. "I don't believe I have introduced myself. I am Luitpold Giphter and the owner of this fine establishment. Now, since you are the last member of the Gaunt family, you must be in possession of the Resurrection Stone."

"I do not have it."

"Odd. It is cursed so only a descendent of Slytherin can touch it. Perhaps old Marvolo Gaunt hid it before he died."

"How do you know all this?" Tom asked suspiciously. "You said that almost no one knows anything about the Peverells, yet you seem to be an expert," he accused.

"It's been a…hobby for many years."

"What else do you know about the Deathly Hallows and the portals?"

"There really isn't much more that I can tell you," the old man shrugged. "There are three portals. They are all related to fate or destiny. The lore says that a wizard with control over the Deathly Hallows and the Portals of Fate will have complete control over death. The first portal, the one Miss Granger used, requires only one of the Hallows, I don't know which. The other two require two and three of them, respectively."

"Do you have any idea where the other two might be, the cloak and the wand?"

"Look for the most powerful dark wizard of the age and you will probably find the Elder Wand. The Cloak of Invisibility is harder. One of the families descended from Ignotus Peverell probably has it, and they will not give it up willingly. However, Miss Granger must have had one of the Hallows, probably not the Resurrection Stone, so you might want to begin your search with her. There might now be a duplicate of one of the Hallows." He paused. "Out of curiosity, what are you going to do about Miss Granger?"

"I will wait a few days. She is probably already guilty enough to do whatever I ask of her. She will try to prove that she loves me. She thinks that if I had known what love was, I would never have become Lord Voldemort."

"Do you think she is right?" Giphter asked.

"Of course not. Love is just another way to use people. It is like the Imperius Curse without the years in Azkaban."

"That wasn't what Slytherin thought."

"What do you mean?" Tom demanded.

"No, maybe I will tell you later. I need to close the shop up. I have a few errands to run tonight. Stop by again and we'll chat. Also, don't underestimate the Gryffindor lioness. Love isn't always blind." With surprising strength, the old man shoved Tom toward the entrance. Before he could say another word, Tom found himself back on Diagon Alley.

With ambivalent feelings, he made his way to a small French restaurant. He was elated at the information he had gained from the encounter with the bookshop owner, but was inexplicably depressed by Hermione. In some small way, he was hurt that she had never trusted him enough to tell him about the future, even though he had found on his own. But on the other hand, he now had one more hold on her, something that pleased him far more than it should have. As usual, he pushed these uncomfortable feelings out of his mind and began planning a day trip to his family's shack where he had met Marvolo and Morfin Gaunt for the first and last time.

Hermione had rushed out of the store and Apparated to Tom's apartment. She had gathered up her things and was about to leave when she decided to do something else. She dug a piece of parchment and a pen out of her bag. Ten minutes later, she Apparated to her own apartment, hoping that Tom would forgive her for her secretiveness. She fixed herself another unappetizing sandwich and began searching for clues about the locations of the Deathly Hallows.

When Tom arrived back at his apartment, Hermione's books were gone, just as he had ordered. In fact, all of her things were gone, the pens that she often left behind, the hair pins she removed when she settled in to read a book, and the umbrella she had lent him. Tom felt an unexpected pang in his chest, but refused to think about what might have caused it other than bad crab bisque. He set his bag on the table and saw a folded piece of parchment with his name on it. He sat down and opened it.

_Dear Tom_,

_You have no idea how sorry I am. I wish I could go back in time and tell you about the future, but I can't. All I can do is try to explain why. When I first came to Hogwarts, I thought you were completely evil. As I got to know you, I learned that you were not. Granted, you were still a Slytherin, but your cunning and ambition were part of what drew me to you. I wanted to tell you, but I wasn't brave enough to trust you. I was afraid that you would follow the same path to gain power, regardless of the cost. If only I had trusted you sooner, this would never have happened. The best I can do is trust you now. I can honestly say that I love you and I deeply regret that I haven't been able to convince you of it. It must seem as though I was using love to manipulate you. I will do anything to prove to you that my love is real. If you want to see me, you can Apparate to my flat. I will change the wards as soon as I get home. _

_Love,_

_Hermione _

Tom was confused. He had expected her to wait at least until Friday to try to convince him that she loved him. He was pleased that she hadn't.

"_Only because it proves how much influence I have with her,"_ he told himself.

"_Are you sure that's all?"_ he heard the old man's voice in his head.

"_Positive,"_ he retorted.

He spent the rest of the week working in the library, trying to find information about Ignotus Peverell's descendents. He was fairly unsuccessful. On Friday, he finally asked Hollis about genealogy records.

"Hogwarts would probably be the best place to check, assuming that they lived in Britain," the wizard had answered.

Hermione arrived in the Department of Mysteries shortly after his conversation with Hollis. Coldly, Tom told her to go to Hogwarts and try to find records of any families that had members named Ignotus or Peverell. However, he didn't tell her why. Meanwhile, he sorted aimlessly through books in the library, waiting for the day to be over so he could go retrieve the Resurrection Stone.

Hermione arrived in Hogsmeade at ten o'clock in the morning. She walked up the hill to Hogwarts and immediately went to Dippet's office.

"Why, hello, Miss Granger," Dippet greeted her. "What brings you back to Hogwarts so soon?"

"I need to find some genealogy records."

"I usually wouldn't allow anyone to see information of such a personal nature. Why do you need to see them?"

"It's for Tom," Hermione answered half-truthfully, remembering Dippet's irrational fondness for Tom. "He found some information about his family and wanted to try to see if he had any living relatives."

"Well, then, I suppose I can allow you to look in the archives for a bit, though it is highly unorthodox," Dippet said. He wrote a quick note and handed it to Hermione.

"Take this to Madam Ippenbok. She never goes on vacation, so she will be in the library. She will take you to the archives."

"Thank you, sir," Hermione said, shocked as usual at Dippet's gullibility.

After spending several hours in the archives, Hermione had found nothing. She was about to give up when a name caught her eye.

"_Ignotus Potter, Gryffindor Seeker, 1832-1836."_

"_It would be Harry's family," _she thought. _"Of course, he must think that they have one of the Deathly Hallows, the Cloak of Invisibility!"_ Suddenly, Hermione came to a realization. Harry's cloak was the Cloak of Invisibility. It had seen more use than most invisibility cloaks but was in perfect condition and it had been passed down for generations. Furthermore, it explained the phrase about the Portal of Thwarted Fate: being garbed by death. She hadn't been wearing the cloak, but it had been packed away in her bag. Hermione almost went directly to tell Tom, but decided against it.

"_Even though I didn't tell him about the future, there are still things that he hasn't told me, like being the Heir of Slytherin and gathering Death Eaters at Hogwarts. Just because I love him, doesn't mean that he can walk all over me," _she determined. Hermione left Hogwarts and stopped in Hogsmeade for dinner before going back to London. As she was sipping her butterbeer in the Three Broomsticks, someone sat down next to her.

"Why, if it isn't Miss Hermione Granger! I was beginning to think I had imagined you."

Hermione hid a smile as she turned to Alphard Black.

"Nice to see you, Black," she said.

"Where have you been? I haven't seen you in training all week."

"Thomson decided to train me himself. They didn't like some of my methods in the test on Tuesday."

"I don't envy you a bit. Thomson is a good enough sort, but he is tougher on the best trainees than anyone else. If you survive him, you'll have a good shot at replacing him when he retires in a few years," Alphard said. "Though I wish you were training with us. I got stuck with Dawlish as my training partner. He acts like the only reason I got into the program was because I bribed the Department," he complained.

"Is it?" Hermione asked innocently.

"Of course not," he replied, affronted. "I made a very nice donation to the fund for Aurors injured in the war, too."

"Really."

"Hermione, I'm joking. And I'm hurt that you would believe such a thing. I was top of my year in Defense Against the Dark Arts. I got an O on my N.E.W.T."

"I'm impressed."

"Ha, you ought to be," he said triumphantly. "So what are you doing tomorrow?" he asked.

"Why?"

"A bunch of us are going to a club tomorrow night. We're short on females."

"I don't think I can go. I have a lot of work to do this weekend."

"Too bad. Owl me if you change your mind," he said, standing to leave. "It was a pleasure seeing you again, Miss Granger," he added, conjuring a red rose with gold-edged petals and handing it to her. She laughed lightly as he Disapparated. She quickly follow suit and materialized in her own apartment. She put the rose in a vase on the table and went to take a shower.

Hermione was just drying her hair when someone began pounding on the door. She pulled on a robe and went to the door, looking through the peep hole. To her surprise, it was Louisa and Minerva. She quickly opened the door to let them in.

"Hermione, it seems like ages since I've seen you!" Louisa cried. "How was your first week?"

"Very busy," Hermione answered diplomatically.

"Mine, too," Minerva agreed.

"I actually came to ask you a favor. Two of my cousins have come down with mononucleosis, whatever that is. St. Mungo's says that they only thing they can do is to rest as much as possible. Unfortunately, they were going to be my bridesmaids. Minnie already agreed to fill in for one of them. I was hoping you would do the same," Louisa said.

"When is the wedding?" Hermione asked.

"Three weeks from this Satureday," Louisa answered.

"I should be able to fill in," Hermione agreed. "What kind of dress do I need?"

"I brought your dress with," Louisa said. Minerva cast _Engorgio_ on the package she was carrying and passed it to Hermione. "I think it will look wonderful on you," Louisa gushed. "But, first things first. Tomorrow night, the wedding party is going to a new club in London. I'll write down the address for you."

"What should I wear?" Hermione asked.

"Oh, a cocktail dress. Whatever color you want," Louisa said, scribbling on a piece of paper. "There's the address." She handed the paper to Hermione. "I'll tell you more about everything tomorrow night. Bye!" She pulled Minerva after her before Hermione could even respond.

Pleasantly diverted, Hermione put Tom out of her mind, planning the next day in her mind.


	27. At the Diamond Sphinx

Chapter 33 - At the Diamond Sphinx

Disclaimer: Not mine.

AN: Over 100,000 words! How 'bout a review to celebrate?

The next day, Tom was extremely irritated. Hermione hadn't contacted him at all about what she had or hadn't found at Hogwarts. Believing him to be angry at her wasn't a good excuse for shirking her duties, especially when they affected his work.

"_Maybe I will go see her after I go to Little Hangleton and tell her that I have forgiven her," _he planned. _"With any luck, she won't want to risk angering me again by asking about Voldemort."_

Tom's anger was nearly that last thing on Hermione's mind when she awoke on Saturday. She had slept late, waking at ten o'clock. After having her morning coffee, she went into her closet and tried to find something suitable for the party that evening. She couldn't find anything. Just as she was about to begin transfiguring a dress, she spotted a bag in the back of her closet. Opening it, she recalled that she had bought a dress on Diagon Alley after she had helped Louisa with her wedding dress. She had been planning to save it for a special date with Tom, but the chance of one of those occurring in the near future was small. Smiling to herself, she pulled the dress out of her closet and placed it on her bed. Today, she would relax. She had no work to do and put all worries out of her head.

Around lunchtime, Hermione remembered that Alphard had invited her to a club that night. Wondering if it was the same club, she quickly owled him. She spent the rest of the afternoon preparing herself for the party. She straightened her hair and put it up in a sleek bun. She fixed herself a light meal before putting on her makeup and dress.

Ready far ahead of time, Hermione was seated on her couch reading _Tales of Beedle the Bard_ when someone knocked at the door. Straightening her skirt, Hermione went to open the door.

Alphard was stunned. Hermione looked even better than she had in Switzerland. She wore a strapless dress of emerald satin. The skirt was full and swung about her knees as she moved.

"You look wonderful, Hermione. Are you ready to go?"

"Just let me grab my purse and wrap," she said, smiling slightly as she stepped back into her bedroom.

"Let's go," she said to Alphard a minute later when she reached the hallway. He took hold of her arm and performed Side-Along Apparation. Tom had just reached the top of the stairs, heard Hermione's voice, and seen the couple's backs right before they disappeared.

They arrived outside an elegant club in the heart of London.

"'_The Diamond Sphinx.' It must have charms to make Muggles ignore it,"_ Hermione thought before Alphard swept her inside.

"I'm here for the Wood-Brown party," Alphard said to host.

"Me, too," Hermione added.

"Really?" Alphard asked, surprised.

"I'm going to be in Louisa's wedding party."

"I'm Jason's best man. He's my first cousin." The host cleared his throat. They followed him to a private room. It was teeming with at least fifty people. The women wore cocktail dresses and most of the men wore slacks and dress shirts of varying colors. A few of the more traditional wore formal black robes open over their other clothing.

"I barely know anyone here," she whispered to Alphard.

"I'm related to at least half of them. I can introduce you," he whispered back.

She smiled gratefully. Louisa spotted them and came over.

"Oh, you've met Alphard!" she said. "He's going to be Jason's best man, and you're my maid of honor! I'm so glad you get along. I told Jason that Alphard would be better than Abraxas."

"Yes, he definitely is," Hermione agreed.

"I'm hurt that you would think so, Miss Granger," Abraxas said from behind them, having just arrived. Dressed completely in black, he was the epitome of a fallen angel.

"I know him much better than you," Hermione pointed out.

"We could fix that," Abraxas replied seriously.

"She's with me, cousin, in case you hadn't noticed," Alphard intervened.

"I must insist on at least one dance this evening, Miss Granger," Abraxas continued. "I will not take no for an answer."

"I suppose I could manage that," Hermione acquiesced.

"Splendid," he smirked before disappearing into the crowd.

"Care for a dance, Hermione?" Alphard asked, guiding her toward the dance floor. She nodded. After a few minutes spent in companionable silence, she spoke.

"Alphard, I've been wondering about something," Hermione said. "Whatever happened to Morgana, your fiancée?"

"I might have told her that the reason I am training to be an Auror is because my parents are working on burning me off the family tree," he admitted. "Now I have a question. What is between Tom Riddle and you?"

"We are together, though I don't know how long it will last," Hermione said downheartedly. "He has been acting strangely since we began work. Then he found out about something in my past and told me he didn't want to see me again. He told me to take all of my things out of his apartment before he got home. He didn't even give me a chance to explain. I really don't understand why it was such an issue. It shouldn't affect him much at all," she finished.

"Tom Riddle is an idiot. I have been an idiot several times in my life, so I know the symptoms," Alphard joked, trying to lighten the mood.

"I was an idiot, too," Hermione said, after a moment. "I have been going out of my way not to upset him and to make our relationship perfect. I guess it's the prefect in me," she shrugged helplessly. "It's not completely his fault."

"No gentleman has the right to treat a woman like that, especially one as smart and beautiful as you," Alphard said bluntly.

"Are you sure you were in Slytherin?" Hermione asked, blushing. "You seem far too straightforward."

"Sometimes being straightforward is the best way to get what you want," he said, gazing down at her before spinning her around in the dance.

Hermione, thinking about what he had said, didn't notice the look on his face.

"I think I want something to drink," she said, looking over at the bar. Alphard escorted her over with no comment.

"A shot of firewhiskey," she ordered. When it arrived, she took a sip and made a face. It took her a few minutes to finish the drink. She ordered another.

"I don't know why he thinks he can talk that way to me, Alphard," she said plaintively as she stared at the empty glass. "I have the best N.E.W.T. scores in over a century. I'm training to be an Auror and working in the Department of Mysteries on Fridays. He isn't any more spectacular than me."

"Personally, I think you are _much_ more spectacular, Hermione," Alphard said, moving closer to Hermione as she began her second drink.

"Ha! I'll tell him so," she said, conjuring a piece of parchment and pulling a fountain pen out of her purse.

_Tom,_ she wrote as Alphard looked on.

_You are a manipulative snake and have no right to treat me this way. Maybe I was dishonest, but you were and continue to be equally dishonest, if not worse. If you think you have the right to make such an issue out of this, in spite of keeping your own secrets, then I want nothing more to do with you. Even though I love you, I will _not _allow you to manipulate and control me as though I were a house elf. I am your equal, and if you are incapable of treating me as such, I will leave you. I warn you, you will never find anyone who is as able to understand and challenge you as I. When you are ready to apologize, come see me. Otherwise, I'll see you at work next Friday. _

_Sincerely,_

_Hermione_

_P.S. By the way, I'm changing the wards on my apartment tonight. You can walk up the stairs and knock like everyone else. _

Alphard barely hid his laughter when she finished.

"Do you have an owl on you?" she asked Alphard.

"No, but I can ask if the club has any available for use," he offered.

"Here you are, Hermione," he said. After she sent the owl off to find Tom, she reached for her drink and slammed it down, along with two more in rapid succession. When she attempted to order another, Alphard stopped her.

"I think you've had enough to drink, Hermione," he said. "You're already going to have one hell of a hangover tomorrow."

"I will not. I have a hangover potion," she said primly.

"There's no such thing," he scoffed.

"Yes, there is. I have a whole bottle of it," she insisted.

"Sure you do," he agreed, not wanting to argue with her.

"I'm here to claim my dance, Miss Granger," Abraxas said, coming over to them.

"I don't think that's a good idea, Hermione," Alphard cautioned.

"I'll be fine," Hermione said, pulling herself together. "I'm not even tipsy." She walked steadily over to the tall blond. "I hope you can keep up," she challenged.

"I don't think that will be a problem, Miss Granger," he said haughtily.

"You might be surprised," she quipped. The music began.

"The tango. A most passionate dance," Abraxas commented as they walked onto the dance floor. "You know it, I hope."

"Being Muggleborn doesn't mean culturally illiterate," Hermione retorted. "I bet you paid the musicians to play this," she mused.

"Does it matter?" he asked suavely.

"Not particularly."

"Then start dancing," he ordered.

Everyone in the room noticed the handsome couple. Eyes of both sexes looked on jealously. They moved together splendidly. Hermione was much more fluid than usual, the result of the alcohol in her system. Abraxas thought that he would be willing to forget her unfortunate blood for a night or two.

Minerva, who was dancing with Philippe, maneuvered closer to Hermione.

"What are you doing?" she hissed. "Are you insane?"

"Possibly," Hermione replied, smirking.

"She's a grown woman. She can decide for herself with whom she wants to dance," Abraxas said coldly.

"I think I had better take you home, Hermione," Minerva said worriedly.

"No need," another voice said coolly. "Mind if I cut in, Abraxas?" Tom Riddle asked.

Tom had gone to the Gaunt shack in Little Hangleton that morning and taken the family ring from its hiding place. Though he wasn't positive, he thought there was a very good chance that the carved black gem was the Resurrection Stone. It was cursed very strongly. He definitely wouldn't want try to wear it if he weren't descended from Slytherin.

"_I will need to take care of that and hide my ancestry if I'm going to use it to find Nichols,"_ he had determined.

Tom had been waiting for Hermione in her apartment when he received the whiskey-stained letter. Checking the owl's tag, he guessed that it was from Hermione before he even broke the wax seal. After reading Hermione's note, he was enraged. His nostrils flared and his face flushed slightly.

"How dare she! She thinks she can just leave me?" he snarled to the empty room. Bringing the letter closer, his sensitive nose caught a whiff of a man's cologne, an expensive one at that, mingled with Hermione's characteristic scent.

His control slipping by the minute, Tom hurriedly Apparated to his apartment. He showered and dressed in five minutes. Standing in front of his mirror, he made a few changes to his clothing. Though his family had squandered their wealth generations ago, his transfiguration skills easily made him the equal of any wizard in Britain. His cotton shirt became snowy silk that shone under the light and his serviceable trousers were altered into well-cut black slacks of lamb's wool. He put on a long black cloak and charmed the silver clasp into the Slytherin coat of arms. Lastly, he put on the silver ring he had retrieved from the Gaunt's hovel. He decided to cast a glamour over the stone, causing to appear to be a plain onyx gem. He would decide when to tell Hermione about it. Taking one last look in the mirror, he determined that his alterations were adequate. Recalling the address, he Apparated to The Diamond Sphinx.

Tom didn't see Hermione in the main room. Realizing that she was most likely in one of the private rooms, he approached the host.

"I am looking for Alphard Black and Hermione Granger," he said haughtily.

"They are attending the Wood-Brown party. May I please see your invitation?"

Tom quickly created a memory of himself showing the host his invitation. The man quickly directed him to the correct room. Upon entering, Tom's eyes were immediately drawn across the dim room to the couple in the middle of the floor, dancing the tango. It was none other than Hermione and Abraxas Malfoy. Hermione looked stunning and appeared to be enjoying the dance, though she had always seemed to have nothing but disdain for the Malfoy clan. Now, she was allowing the Malfoy heir to hold her as though he were her lover. Eyes glinting, Tom moved gracefully toward them. When he saw the look on the blond man's face, it took all of his willpower to restrain himself from cursing him.

"I think I had better take you home, Hermione," he heard Minerva say.

"No need," he said coolly. "Mind if I cut in, Abraxas?" he asked.

"Yes, I do. Miss Granger and I have been enjoying ourselves immensely. I think she finds dancing with a man instead of a schoolboy to be superior." Malfoy examined Tom's apparel. Finding nothing lacking, he commented, "You have graduated, Tom, yet you are still wearing the Slytherin crest. Rather presumptuous of you."

"I have more right to wear this crest than anyone, Malfoy," Tom said, eyes glinting dangerously. "As for dancing with a man, why not let the lady decide?" he asked, pulling off his cloak and vanishing it with a snap.

Looking at Tom speculatively, Abraxas stepped aside.

"But-," Hermione began, but catching the smouldering look in Tom's eyes, she gave up.

"Did you have anything to say, darling? I thought your little note said it all," Tom said with what appeared to be a loving smile.

"Tom, I-"

"Didn't mean it? I have always thought that things said under the influence of alcohol were likely to be true. Maybe you are the exception," he shrugged, a cruel look appearing on his face. "Now stop standing there like a fool and dance," he ordered quietly.

Quickly becoming angry herself, Hermione began moving again.

"What right do you have to come here and tell me who to dance with?" Hermione murmured furiously as he swung her out.

"I can't believe that the Gryffindor lioness didn't even give me the privilege of defending myself in person. Instead you assaulted my character to whomever happened to be nearby and wrote a sorry excuse for a note to convey your feelings. I would give you credit for your wonderful impression of a Slytherin were it not for the repulsive smell of firewhiskey on your breath," he hissed, pulling her back to him and leading her into a series of complicated steps.

"You didn't seem to have a problem with it on New Year's Eve," she retorted.

"Perhaps because I was in a similar state at the time, but I would like to think that my tastes have improved," he snarled, bending her back over his arm. "Looking back, I regret being so much a gentleman. Had I asked a few more questions, we would not be having this conversation."

"Why not? Because you would have found out everything from me that you wanted to know?" she asked as he pulled her upright.

Stepping closer to her, he responded. "No, because I would not have expected you to be forthcoming about something so significant at such an early stage in our relationship. If, when you told me about your origins, you had even said that there was something you were not ready to tell me, I would have accepted it and continued to try to prove myself to you. However, you did not give me the chance and led me to believe that you had been completely honest with me," he said, pain creeping into his voice. Somewhere in their conversation, he had stopped acting.

"And what about your secrets, Tom?" she whispered harshly, pulling back from his arms, warring emotions overpowering her usual caution. "The Heir of Slytherin, the basilisk, the Death Eaters?"

"I know that you knew about all of them before you even came here. I heard you talk to Minerva about the first two and I know you found one of the meetings. You may have been invisible and silent, but a snake's strongest sense is smell," he said, recalling the odor he had noticed after one of the meetings. "I would have found you in this room even if I were deaf and blind," he said, leaning closer and inhaling her scent. "Freesia and rain," he murmured in her ear, pulling her tighter against him.

"I thought I smelled repulsive," Hermione retorted weakly.

"Maybe my tastes haven't improved as much as I thought," he whispered, kissing her temple. After a moment, he whispered in her ear, "Were you really going to leave me?"

"Tom…" Hermione responded helplessly.

"Hermione," he said, stepping back slightly, "I forgive you for keeping your secret, and I apologize for reacting so cruelly." He paused. "I think it would be better to speak more on this elsewhere," he added, glancing around at the other patrons, several of whom were clearly focused on the couple in the middle of the dance floor.

"One last thing, Tom," Hermione said. "Did you really have no idea who the dark wizard I feared was?"

Tom was torn. He closed his eyes for a split second, trying to weigh his options. Hermione's pleading face appeared in his mind. A rush of feeling engulfed him. He tried to regain his composure, but failed. With his emotions in such disorder, his reptilian survival instincts took over. She had already threatened to leave him once. If she found out that he had completely fabricated his reaction to her secret, she would almost definitely leave him and never come back.

"No, I didn't," he answered, staring into her eyes. Telling her the truth now would cause more damage.

"Tom," she said, touching his face, "I'm so sorry." Every ounce of her feelings was compressed into those words. Tom felt each one like a sledgehammer. Unable to think of anything to say, he did the next thing that came to mind. He pulled her flush against him, bent down, and kissed her. Hermione's lips were soft and opened with a small gasp. Their kiss intensified and the attention of the whole room shifted to them, though they didn't notice. Before they broke apart, Tom had Apparated them away.


	28. An Interested Party

Chapter 28 - An Interested Party

Disclaimer: I don't own the Harry Potter universe. If I did, this laptop would be a Falcon Northwest.

With a wave of his wand, Tom conjured dim lights around his apartment, still kissing her thoroughly. Hermione vaguely registered him fiddling with the covered buttons on the back of her dress. She felt the top one come undone and Tom's hand moving on to the second button. Slightly cool fingers grazed the sensitive skin between her shoulder blades. Coming back to reality, she pulled back slightly.

"Hermione," Tom murmured, pulling her back and resuming his activities. More determined now, she pulled back again.

"What's wrong?" Tom questioned.

Hermione was silent for a few moments. Tom carefully hid his growing frustration. Finally, she spoke.

"Tom, I love you, but I'm not ready for this. It's obvious that our relationship isn't as strong as we thought and I'm a little tipsy. Circumstances definitely aren't…ideal," she explained.

Tom looked at her quizzically.

"I've had several firewhiskeys, we just resolved a rather bad argument, and you are jealous that I was dancing with Malfoy. I don't want our first time to be the result of alcohol and Slytherin possessiveness," she reiterated, forcing the fog from her brain.

"I understand," Tom said after a moment. "I'll take you back to your apartment," he offered. "Assuming that I can get through the wards?" he added with a quirked smile.

Hermione nodded, relieved that he had given up so easily. Tom Apparated with her to her apartment. Sleepily, Hermione kissed him goodnight and trudged into the bathroom. Tom went back to his apartment to mull over the events of the evening.

The next morning, Tom awoke to the raucous call of a bird. Rousing himself, he walked over to open the window. A glossy golden eagle settled onto the sill and extended its formidable talon to Tom. Tom was not surprised when he saw the Malfoy crest on the heavy linen parchment. He had questioned his wisdom in defending himself to Abraxas the previous night. He waved the large bird off and pulled the window shut, breaking the seal on the missive.

_Mr. Riddle,_

_Please accept this invitation to dinner at Malfoy House, No. 17, Grosvenor Square, this evening at 8:00. We have much to discuss. _

_Abraxas Malfoy_

Tom quickly decided to accept the invitation. The Malfoys could be valuable allies, and Aulus had been getting rather fractious toward the end of their time at Hogwarts. It would definitely not hurt to disclose his ancestry to them. Though he had alluded to his relationship to Slytherin, he had never actually admitted it to the Death Eaters, and with the Malfoy's influence behind him, he would have a much easier time accomplishing his goals. Additionally, the Malfoys were very good at keeping secrets; they would all have been shipped off to Azkaban centuries ago if they were not.

Looking at the clock, Tom decided to go see Hermione. He didn't want her to think he didn't care about her well-being, especially after the events at the club.

She was still asleep when he Apparated into her apartment. She had buried herself in a pile of blankets and was hugging a pillow to her chest. Feeling roguish, Tom leaned down to wake her up.

"_She'll appreciate the romanticism of being awakened by a kiss," _Tom thought. Just as he was about to kiss her, he drew back. Thinking for a moment, he waved his wand and whispered, "_Mentha respirata_." Bending over again, he smirked before kissing her. Mint was definitely preferable to her breath after all that firewhiskey.

After a few seconds, Hermione blearily opened her eyes and smiled.

"I don't feel as bad as I expected," she said when he drew back. "Maybe I'm developing a tolerance."

Tom's lips quirked for a moment before he asked, "What are you planning on doing today?"

"I don't know, I was thinking of... Oh, I completely forgot to talk to Louisa last night!" she exclaimed. "I was so upset with you that I didn't remember the reason I even went to the party! I had better owl her right away." She jumped out of bed and waved her wand out the window. Within seconds, an owl appeared. Hermione quickly scribbled a note, put a few coins in the leather pouch, and attached her missive.

"I'll need to stay here until Louisa responds. I'll see you tomorrow, I guess," she said apologetically.

"All right, I have plenty of work to do anyway," Tom said, kissing her good-bye, thinking how lucky he was that she hadn't suggested dinner that evening.

Tom spent the next hour picking out materials for Hermione's new ring. He was confident that he could do a much more impressive job on his second try, both aesthetically and functionally. He finally decided on gold and alexandrite. _'She ought to appreciate my compromise,"_ he thought, turning the alexandrite and admiring the shift from green to crimson. Because the gems were so small, they only cost him a few Galleons, something he could definitely afford with his salary as an Unspeakable. The small amount of gold he needed could easily be extracted from a Galleon. The true value of the ring would come from the craftsmanship and enchantments he placed upon it.

Since he was nearby, Tom decided to stop in at Luitpold Giphter's bookstore. He entered cautiously, hand resting on his wand inside his robes. He didn't want to be caught unaware.

"Hello Tom, I was wondering when you would be back. Did you successfully tame your lioness?" the old man leered.

Tom's lips tightened. "I had a few questions," he said, ignoring Giphter's comment.

"I am completely at your disposal," the shopkeeper mocked.

"Tell me what you meant when you mentioned Salazar Slytherin," Tom demanded.

"Oh, what Slytherin thought about love? Why would you want to know that?"

"It is important to me," Tom said through gritted teeth.

"I suppose I could tell you," Giphter smirked. "After you buy something. I am a shopkeeper."

"Fine. Then you will tell me?" Tom questioned irritably.

"Yes. I'll be waiting for you at the counter."

"You wouldn't happen to have any books on magical goldsmithing, would you?" Tom asked after thinking for a moment.

"As a matter of fact, I do. No need to ask why you want it," the old man goaded, climbing up a rickety ladder and pulling a few musty books from the shelf. "What specifically were you wanted to make?" he called from the ladder.

"A ring," Tom answered shortly.

"Well then, you're in luck. I have copy of a 17th century Master Goldsmith's designs on hand. Since you are my best customer, I'll sell it to you for only two Galleons."

"How generous of you," Tom replied, dropping the coins on the counter. "Now you will answer my question."

"Impatient one, aren't you? Come have a seat," he ordered, walking into the back room. As Tom settled into his chair, Giphter began his narrative.

"Slytherin is remembered by all the wizarding world as a cunning wizard who held great dislike, even hatred, for Muggles and Muggleborns. What most don't know, is that while he was proud of his heritage and talent, he was not always opposed to Muggleborns. That was a result of a rather unfortunate incident he had with a Muggleborn witch. In those years, there was no school for magical children to learn how to use their powers. They were usually taught by family members. Obviously, families specialized in different areas, such as Divination or the Dark Arts, something still seen with the Malfoys, Trelawnys, and Prewetts. Muggleborns, on the other hand, were often killed by their neighbours or families for being changelings or demon children. The luckier ones were discovered by witches or wizards passing through. Salazar was known for travelling about the country searching out magical children to be apprenticed to willing witches and wizards."

"Then why does every book say that he refused to teach Muggleborns?" Tom interrupted.

"I'm getting there," Giphter glared. "Anyway, when he was nearing thirty, he came across a girl by the name of Iseulte Thorne. She was already seventeen, the oldest witch he had discovered by far and a stunning beauty. When he began telling her that she was a witch, she slapped him and called for her brothers, all six of them. Needless to say, Salazar decided that retreating was the better part of valour. He went back to see her every day for a month, bringing small trinkets and magical items to try to convince her that he was neither lying nor insane. At the end of the month, Iseulte finally admitted that she believed him. He asked her to become his apprentice, though he had never had one before. She refused and told him there was no way she would live with a man like him without being married. Salazar had never thought of marrying anyone, preferring a life of adventure and no responsibility, so her ultimatum came as a shock. Not to be dissuaded, he told her he would marry her and have the marriage annulled when she completed her apprenticeship. He was completely caught off guard by her slap. When he came back the next day, she wouldn't come out of the cottage to speak to him. His pride wounded, Salazar decided never to come back. He lasted a week. He went back to Iseulte's cottage and begged her to marry him. Very impressive proposal, if I recall correctly."

"How could you possibly know all this?" Tom asked incredulously.

"Silence, boy, or do you want me to make you wait a few weeks to finish the story?" he growled. After a moment, he began again. "She made him wait a few months, but in the end agreed to marry him. They declared themselves before her family, Salazar paid the bride price, and they were married. Iseult gave birth to Nǽdren, Salazar's heir after a year and finished her apprenticeship two years later. Salazar became very busy building Hogwarts around this time. Nǽdren was just over three years old when she decided to visit her family. They didn't know that she was a witch, but she wanted to show them what she had learned. Salazar found the note she had left a few hours earlier and immediately Apparated to her family's cottage. He found her beaten beyond recognition a few steps from the door, barely alive. He Apparated back to his family estate and tried to heal her. She woke only long enough for him to tell her that he loved her. She died two days later. Magical medical care was barely any better than Muggle in those days. The Hogwarts castle had been completed and was about to open with the four founders as the first teachers. Nearly insane with grief, Salazar went to the other founders and demanded that they not admit Muggleborns because they had no place in the Wizarding World. When they refused, Salazar put a basilisk egg in a secret chamber to protect any descendents should the castle be attacked and left. He never married again or spoke to the other founders, though he did occasionally visit to inspect the students in his house. In respect of his wishes, no Muggleborns were ever admitted into Slytherin."

"So his wife's own family killed her for being a witch? What did Slytherin do to them?" Tom asked, shocked by the tale.

"Some historians in the Renaissance credited Salazar with the invention of the Cruciatus Curse, but regardless, they were found dead a few weeks later."

"How do I know that you aren't making all this up?" Tom demanded.

"The ring isn't the only Slytherin artefact," Giphter replied. "My family, though Pureblood, was poor and worked as servants for Slytherin for over a century. We used to have a few items from that time, including a journal that belonged to Nǽdren's son. Salazar became mentally unstable in his last years and would stand in front of his mirror talking to Iseult. His son heard the story hundreds of times, according to the journal."

"I don't believe you," Tom accused. "Show it to me."

"All right," Giphter agreed easily. He waved his wand and a leather-covered book appeared on the small table. "You may only look at the first page," he stipulated. "Just enough to verify that it's real."

Tom eagerly opened the book and was astonished to find it handwritten in Anglo-Saxon. Looking at it, he was able to pick out names and a few words. On the inside of the front cover was a partial genealogy, clearly showing several generations after Salazar Slytherin.

"It looks legitimate," Tom admitted a minute later. Giphter took the journal and Vanished it back to its hiding place.

"That's because it is."

"Do you know anything else that might be of interest to me?" Tom asked, looking into the shopkeeper's eyes.

"No, now get out of here, I have a store to run," the old man ordered.

"Just one more question," Tom said.

"What?" the shop owner asked.

"_Obliviate_. Do you remember me?" Tom hoped that he had erased all of the man's memories of Hermione and him.

"Hmm, you bought a book, _Tales of Beedle the Bard_, right? Is there a problem with it? I don't take returns."

"Oh, sorry. I didn't mean to waste your time," Tom apologized and left immediately, feeling no guilt whatsoever and planning to never see the old shopkeeper again. After all, the man had tried to trick him several times and he didn't seem to have any further useful information, based on what Tom could glean via Legilimency.

He went back to his apartment and began looking through the book he had purchased to find a ring pattern that Hermione would like. Several intense hours later, he was finished. The gold ring was formed by a Celtic knot with alexandrite interspersed throughout the strands. He had made the protection spells stronger and included an enchantment that would allow him to Apparate to wherever Hermione was. If she was unconscious, the nearly identical ring on his hand that he had made for himself from the remaining gold would glow and become hot.

Glancing at the time, Tom started getting ready for dinner. He would need to look his best; he had no doubt that it would be a formal dinner. He dressed very similarly to the night before, only substituting a green silk shirt for the white one.

At five to eight, Tom Apparated to Grosvenor Square and walked to No. 17. When he reached the door, it was opened silently. He nodded politely to the butler and walked into the foyer. The butler led him down a hallway to a parlour. Abraxas Malfoy lounged in a chair directly across from the door.

"Welcome to Malfoy House," he drawled, standing to greet Tom. "We were just ready to begin dinner. You have impeccable timing. Well, we mustn't keep the others waiting."

"Who else will be dining with us?" Tom asked coolly.

"My parents, Aulus, and a few close friends," he said dismissively, leading Tom into a dim dining room. Five people were already seated at the table. Tom recognized Aulus and assumed that the older couple at the head of the table were the elder Malfoys. The man looked nearly identical to Aulus and Abraxas and the woman had a haughty look on her patrician features. Tom had no idea who the other two guests were.

"Allow me to introduce you to my parents, Setheus and Sophia Malfoy, and two close friends, Miss Morgana Lestrange and my cousin, Cygnus Black," Abraxas said.

"We've been waiting to meet you for quite some time," Setheus murmured. "We have much to discuss."

TRHG (For some reason, I am not able to put in a normal break)

Shortly after Tom left, a small owl landed on Hermione's windowsill. Hermione quickly removed the note from the bird's leg and it flew off. She scanned the note and sighed in relief. Minerva had told Louisa about the events of the previous night and she was coming right over. Hermione threw on some Muggle clothing she had bought and set about preparing something for elevenses. She found a tin of biscuits she had bought a few days before, still fresh thanks to a good Anti-Staleness charm and began a pot of coffee. After last night, she wanted something a little stronger than tea.

At a quarter to eleven, Louisa knocked on Hermione's door. Hermione opened it and greeted her with a hug.

"I'm so sorry! I can't believe I forgot to speak with you about your wedding," she apologized earnestly.

"Don't worry about it," Louisa said graciously. "Minerva made it sound as though you had enough to worry about."

"Everything's fine now," Hermione assured her. "Now what do I need to know about your wedding?"

"Well, you already have your dress. Have you tried it on yet?" Louisa asked.

"No, I've just been so busy," Hermione said, horrified at her own forgetfulness.

"Well, go try it on," Louisa giggled. "It's Sunday, so you better not have work to do!"

"Fine," Hermione acquiesced, smiling. Five minutes later, Hermione came out of her bedroom in the bridesmaid's dress. It was a light turquoise colour with a calf-length full skirt and thin shoulder straps. The skirt was full and made from many layers of silk organza that shone every colour from mint green to lavender.

"It's gorgeous!" Hermione exclaimed to Louisa.

"Well, I wanted something you could wear again," Louisa shrugged.

"Everyone says that, but I think you actually succeeded," Hermione said, looking down at the dress. "What shoes am I supposed to wear with this?" she asked, noticing her bare feet.

"That was something I needed to talk to you about. Do you have time to do a bit of shopping today?" Louisa questioned innocently.

"I suppose," Hermione smiled.

"Good. We're supposed to meet Minnie in half an hour," she said, taking a sip of coffee and making a face. "You wouldn't happen to have any tea, would you?" she asked as Hermione went back into her room.

Hermione laughed. "To strong for you?" she called, pulling on her clothes and walking back into the sitting room.

"Yes!" Louisa looked at Hermione's outfit. "You are much more daring than I am," she said in awe. "I wouldn't dare wear a skirt that short!" Hermione examined her clothing. Her light yellow cotton skirt fell only a few inches above her knees and was quite full, definitely not a miniskirt.

"What's wrong with it?" she asked incredulously.

"Well, it's just…short. But it looks great on you! And I suppose as an Auror-in-Training, you can wear whatever you want! But that shirt is terrible!" she continued. "Why would you wear something so boring with such a cute skirt?" Hermione was wearing a plain, short-sleeved white blouse. She thought it looked fine.

"Don't worry, I'll fix it for you!" Louisa waved her wand and the shirt cinched itself around Hermione's waist and formed eyelets in the fabric. "Much better!" she proclaimed.

Hermione shrugged and grabbed her purse.

Ten minutes later, they were in a small boutique greeting Minerva.

"Hi, Hermione," she replied. "How are you?"

"I'm fine," Hermione said honestly. "Tom and I talked things out last night, and everything is fine," she assured her friend.

"I'm glad," Minerva said, relief showing itself on her face. "You two were rather…intense at the club."

"Tom's always intense," Hermione joked.

"Come on," Louisa prodded, "we can talk after we shop. I think these would look wonderful with your dresses." She pointed to some turquoise sequined sandals with three-inch heels.

"I don't think so," Minerva scoffed. Twenty minutes later, Minerva and Louisa were still disagreeing about shoes. Hermione had had enough.

"Will you let me pick them out?" she asked exasperatedly.

Minerva and Louisa looked at each other and nodded.

"These," Hermione indicated a pair of silver sandals with a low heel.

"I can't believe I didn't see those before!" Louisa exclaimed. "They are perfect!"

"Fine with me," Minerva agreed, barely even looking at them. All she cared about was whether she could walk in them. They quickly bought the shoes and walked across the street to Fortescue's ice cream shop. They had just sat down at a table outside the shop when a shadow fell over them.

"Hello, Hermione, Louisa, and Minerva, is it? How do you do?" Alphard Black crowed.

"Hi, Alphard," Louisa smiled. "We have been getting a few things for the wedding," she said, gesturing to the bags around the table.

"You have no idea how glad I am that I just had to send my measurements to the tailor," he laughed. "I'm not sure I could have handled picking everything out. Hermione, you look great," he said, appreciating her shorter-than-average skirt and the smooth legs it revealed. "I was a little worried about you last night, associating with all of us Slytherins at the club. Then your dramatic exit…" he referred to the kiss in the middle of the dance floor.

Hermione blushed. "I'm fine," she assured him.

"So what brings you to Diagon Alley?" Louisa questioned brightly.

"Auror training has been dreadfully hard on my wardrobe. I had nothing better to do, so I went to order a few new sets of robes and some shoes more suitable for trudging through swamps."

"I would trade places with you if I could," Hermione grumbled, eating a spoonful of chocolate ice cream.

Alphard shuddered. "All the trainees pity you. I can't imagine training with Thomson every single day. Seeing him once per week is plenty."

"Hopefully I'll be doing some training with the rest of you soon. He said I would be participating in some of the group training," she replied.

"Enough talk about work!" Louisa interjected. "We have plenty of shopping left to do!"

"Well, I will leave you ladies to it," Alphard said gallantly. "I look forward to seeing you in training, Hermione." He left them and disappeared around the corner.

"Look at the time," Minerva said innocently, turning toward the large clock at the front of Gringott's. "I was planning to meet Philippe for tea this afternoon at his parent's house, so I really need to get going. Hermione, let's meet for lunch sometime this week. I've barely talked to you for weeks." She Disapparated before Louisa could protest.

"I guess it's just us," Louisa said, gathering her things. "You know," she said covertly, "I think Alphard fancies you! I've seen him more when you're around than in my entire life!"

"I'm sure you are exaggerating," Hermione insisted, crossing her arms over her chest. "He knows that I'm with Tom. Anyway, I doubt his family would let him marry a Muggleborn."

"Well, you're not married or even engaged, so he probably thinks you're still fair game," Louisa shrugged. "And he's dated half-bloods before, even though the rest of the Blacks think they are just as bad as Muggleborns. Alphard doesn't particularly care what they think, especially since he inherited a decent fortune from a spinster aunt."

"Why are you telling me all this?" Hermione questioned. "I may not be engaged, but I'm not single, either."

"Alphard would be a good catch," Louisa said. "Tom is handsome enough, but so is Alphard, and if you ever decided that you didn't want to work, he would be able to support you and a family."

"Even if I did decide to quit work for some reason, Tom would be more than able to support me," Hermione retorted angrily. "We are both very well compensated for our work, and I don't need a man to pay my way."

"I'm sorry, Hermione," Louisa said after being uncharacteristically silent for a moment. "I just want to you be as happy as I am. I mean, marrying Jason and starting a family is everything I've ever dreamed of."

"Apology accepted," Hermione relented. "But you have to remember that not everyone has the same dream as you. Now what are we going to do for the rest of the day?" she asked with a small grin, pushing Alphard out of her mind.

"Where do you want to go first?" Louis responded happily. They spent the rest of the afternoon browsing through many of the shops on Diagon Alley. Hermione thoroughly enjoyed herself, something she would never have believed could happen only a year earlier. However, she did insist that they go into Flourish and Quilian's, the precursor to Flourish and Blott's, Hermione assumed. Remembering Louisa's comment about her skirt, she browsed some shelves on wizarding life, hoping that she could find a book to help her adjust to life in the 1940s. School life didn't count, in her opinion. She found an etiquette book, _A Modern Witch's Comprehensive Guide to Proper Grooming, Etiquette, and Parenting_. Though not terribly thrilled with the last part of the title, she decided that it couldn't hurt. She could always get a good laugh out of some of the more ridiculous customs.

Hermione arrived back at her apartment at six o'clock that evening, exhausted. She decided to pass the time with her new book, not wanting to bother doing more research on the Deathly Hollows or the portals. The previous week had drained her and she wanted to start the new week energetically, since she also had to prepare for Louisa's wedding.


	29. Proof

Chapter 29 - Proof

Disclaimer: I don't own most of this stuff. The only things I own are a few spells, fictitious books, and some supporting characters.

* * *

Dinner was a somber, formal affair. Tom was very glad he had dressed well, and as it was, his clothing, though stylish, was definitely the least ornate. Most of the conversation revolved around investments, issues at the Ministry, and, unfortunately, Morgana's opinions on everything.

The Malfoys were doing their best to impress Tom, thought their motives were unclear. The simplest dish was whole lobster with butter sauce. After the meal, crème brulee with an intricate gold leaf pattern in the caramelized topping materialized in front of them. When they were finished, Setheus stood.

"Why don't you ladies retire to the parlour?" he said with the force of a command. Though she was clearly put out, Morgana left without comment.

"Abraxas, Mr. Riddle, please follow me to my study. Aulus, show Mr. Black around the grounds," he ordered.

Minutes later, the three stepped into a dark, masculine room. Appointed in dark green velvet with rosewood furniture and bookshelves, the room was beautiful in a very Slytherin fashion.

"Please, sit down," Mr. Malfoy said, gesturing to a chair near the desk behind which he was sitting.

Tom took his seat. Abraxas did the same.

"Abraxas relayed a very curious story to me last night, Mr. Riddle. Do you have any idea what it might have been?" the elder Malfoy asked emotionlessly.

"I'm sure I don't know, unless you find occasional lovers' spats curious," Tom replied, meeting Malfoy's eyes with his own.

"I was referring to your claim of a certain ancestor," he clarified, irked at Tom's wilfulness.

"Ah, I didn't realize it would be worthy of such concern on your part," Tom mused. "Perhaps I ought to have just Stunned Abraxas instead of bothering with conversation."

"You wouldn't have had an easy time of it," Abraxas interjected, offending at Tom's mean opinion of his capabilities.

"Of course not," Tom agreed.

"Mr. Riddle, apparently your association with that Gryffindor Mudblood has robbed you of all appreciation for subtlety. Now answer me, are you the Heir of Slytherin?"

"What if I am? I don't see how it is any of your concern."

"Mr. Riddle, I am in the position to help you a great deal if you are, in fact, deserving of such help. Rest assured that you will only gain if you were being honest with my son. I am giving you the chance to prove yourself."

"How do you propose that I...prove myself?" Tom asked coolly.

"I'm sure you can come up with something," the Malfoy patriarch replied.

"You will make an oath never to disclose this to anyone," Tom ordered.

"If you are the Heir of Slytherin, I will not reveal what you tell or show me while in this room," Setheus vowed, the crackle of magic sounding around him.

"Very well." Tom pulled the heavy ring from his finger and set it on the desk. "This ring has been in the possession of my family for centuries. Only the Heir of Slytherin can wear it without suffering the effects of the curses upon it."

"While that is a very nice story, you have done nothing to prove that it is true," Abraxas interrupted.

"Would you care to test it?" Tom asked generously. "You have a younger brother: surely your father could spare you?"

"Florry," Setheus called, snapping his fingers.

A house elf materialized in front of the desk.

"Put on the ring," he ordered the cowering servant.

Florry reached a trembling hand toward the ring. The second the unlucky elf touched it, her finger began to smoke and burn. She pulled back with a smothered scream, not wanting to risk the wrath of her master.

"Leave," Setheus ordered. "May I cast a diagnostic spell?" he asked Tom.

Tom nodded, watching the older man closely. He cast a several spells, all used to reveal the presence of curses and give their identities.

"There are many curses upon this ring, but I cannot determine their nature," Setheus admitted. "I have never seen most of them before. Whoever enchanted this ring was a master of their craft," he continued admiringly.

"You believe me now?" Tom asked.

"You appear to be telling to truth, or at least part of it."

"Well, now that we have answered all of your questions, it is time for you to answer some of mine," Tom spoke. "What do you know about the Deathly Hollows?"

Malfoy looked shocked. "Do you have them?" he asked with dreadful eagerness.

"I would not tell you if I did, but I do not. I need information on them."

"Grindelwald was rumoured to have it, but it had disappeared by the time the International Wizengamot tried him," Malfoy shrugged. "To claim it, you need to defeat its owner and it will belong to you. They won't be able to use it properly."

"Do you have any idea what it looks like?" Tom asked.

"Dark brown wood. Supposedly, it looks like it has been streaked with blood."

Tom immediately recognized the description as fitting his own wand, the one Dumbledore had given him at graduation. It would make explain Dumbledore's actions.

"What about the cloak and stone?"

"I have no idea."

"Then I will take my leave."

"I am sure we will meet again before too much time has passed," the older man said.

Tom was just about to leave the room when he noticed a silver cage in the corner. He turned from his path to the door and walked over to it.

"What are you doing?" Malfoy asked, sounding slightly irritated.

"_Well met, snake brother_," the adder hissed.

"_Good evening," _Tom replied in Parseltongue.

"You speak Parseltongue," his host interrupted.

"Of course. I'm the Heir of Slytherin," Tom asserted, as he walked once again to the door.

Tom left the town house and Apparated back to his apartment building. Once in his room, he immediately drew his wand and examined it carefully. It was definitely made of elder wood and could look bloody if one had a strong imagination. Almost positive that he was now in possession of two of the three Deathly Hollows, Tom sat down to plan his next actions. He would need to be cautious around the Malfoys. They were the epitome of a Slytherin family and would be watching him. He would need to fulfil their expectation to receive their support, yet he couldn't be obvious about it without alienating Hermione.

Upon thinking of her, Tom picked up the ring he had made her. He looked at the clock: it was just nine o'clock. He looked at the ring a moment longer before Apparating. Hermione was curled up on her sofa reading a book. Tom nearly laughed out loud when he read the title.

"I guess I should have bought that for you when I saw it."

"Louisa thought my skirt was too short, so I figured I ought to find out what you people wear in the 1940s. Did you know that the more old-fashioned Purebloods still prefer that a widow marries her husband's brother if she is childless to carry on the family line?" she asked, not even looking up.

"Yes, I did," Tom said, hiding his exasperation. He had expected her to at least stand up to greet him. "I brought something for you," he added, trying to get her attention.

"Set it on the table," Hermione waved dismissively.

Tom waved his wand and Hermione flew towards him. He caught her and set her upright before taking her hands in his.

"I would much prefer to give it to you in person," Tom said seductively.

"Tom, I am your girlfriend, not your child. You could have asked me instead of dragging me over," she frowned.

"I'm sorry, I wanted you to be as excited about this as I am," Tom said.

"Well, what is it?" Hermione relented.

Tom pulled the ring out of his pocket. "I made this for you," he commented, slipping it onto her finger, specifically, her left ring finger.

"Tom, this isn't an engagement ring, is it?" Hermione asked, dumbfounded.

"It is if you want it to be," Tom offered craftily.

"That's your idea of a proposal?" Hermione asked incredulously. "You can keep your bloody ring!" she said huffily, throwing the ring at Tom's head. He caught it and looked at her in surprise.

"I'm sorry, I didn't even think of what that finger would mean," he lied believably. "But if you want me to propose, I will. I wasn't planning to for a while, but I can't imagine marrying anyone else. The engagement can be as long as you want," he added, warming to the subject.

"That was slightly better, but I expect more of you," Hermione smirked. "Keep the ring for now. You can try again later." Inside, she was ecstatic that Tom was willing to commit, and even brought it up first. Louisa's wedding had led her to start thinking about her own wedding and family, though she still planned to wait a few more years.

"No, I want you to keep the ring," Tom insisted. "It has several protection charms on it, since Thomson took your other ring. It can be a . . . betrothal ring. Showing that we will get married, just not immediately."

"All right," Hermione agreed simply. It was exactly what she had wanted the moment he brought up engagement. Tom kissed her hand before sliding the ring back onto her finger. Hermione was nearly overcome with emotion and pulled him down to kiss him. Tom was not as calm as he would have liked and responded passionately to Hermione's kiss. They pulled apart several moments later, breathing rather harshly.

"I had better go," Tom said. "We both have work tomorrow."

"Good night," Hermione said. "I love you, Tom," she added, hugging him for a moment longer.

"I love you, too," Tom whispered before Disapparating.

*** *** ***

Hermione went to work the next day, hoping that Thomson would be in a good mood. She was getting tired of his overbearing methods and constant attempts to make her lose focus.

Today was her lucky day.

"We are going to have a little talk before starting your training today," the head Auror said, leading Hermione into his office and motioning for her to sit.

"About what, sir?" Hermione asked coolly.

"About your training, of course."

"What specifically?" Hermione questioned, dreading the direction the conversation was likely to take.

"I have decided that you will start taking part in group training exercises. However, you will take the Auror qualification test today. You are perhaps the most exceptional trainee of any I have worked with. Yes, I know you held yourself back," he grunted, seeing her look of disbelief. "But you have still been astoundingly successful. I will administer the written and practical exams. If you pass them, you will continue group training with the other trainees and begin to work part-time as an Auror or take a job in the Department of Mysteries, since Trelawney has offered you a position." he finished, a hint of distaste in his tone.

"Will you give me a few days to decide?" Hermione asked, confident that she would pass the exam. She had never failed one before and was never planning to.

"You will have until Friday," Thomson replied. "Are you ready to begin the test?" he asked. She nodded, and he slid a stack of parchment across the desk.

The written portion was fairly simple, dealing mostly with procedures and legal issues. Hermione finished within the hour, positive that she had missed no more than two or three points. Thomson looked over it for a few minutes and almost cracked a slight smile.

"You're practical will take place in the same room as your assessment at the beginning of training. I will oversee it. You will not be penalized for any actions, not even Unforgivable Curses, though I would advise against using them," he warned.

Hermione held back a smirk. _"I've been around too many Slytherins this year," _she thought.

The practical was fairly close to what Hermione had expected. There were exercises dealing with magical creatures, hostile enchantments, and fairly generic criminals.

The final part of the practical was a surprise, though Hermione would later think that she ought to have expected it. She found herself once again on the battlefield, everything identical to her previous experience in the room.

"Granger, help me out over here," a witch in black robes with the Hogwarts crest called.

As before, Hermione hurried over to the witch, who was being attacked by two large wizards in black robes. She quickly dispatched the Death Eaters and immediately ran over to where she knew Harry's body to be. She Disillusioned herself, not wanting to repeat the experience with the Cruciatus Curse. Hopefully, she would have destroyed the Horcrux by the time Voldemort found her.

Once again, she took the sword from Harry's still warm hand, shivering when her hand brushed against his. Not even pausing to look around her, she slammed the point into the locket. A scream of fury cut through the sounds of battle. Hermione took a moment to reassure herself that she had completely destroyed the locket and steeled herself for the coming confrontation with Lord Voldemort. She would not be caught unprepared this time.

"Hermione Granger, the Mudblood friend of Harry Potter, how pleasant to see you again. Though you left me, I never thought you would actually try to kill me. I must admit, I underestimated your Gryffindor predisposition for martyrdom," Voldemort hissed, red eyes flashing with rage.

"What are you talking about? I was never with you. I thought you only made things up when people asked about your bloodline," she retorted, hoping that Thomson wouldn't ask her about it after the exercise.

"I never really cared about bloodlines until I met you," he replied with a ghastly smile, circling around her. "Of course, I thought pure blood was superior, but not worth killing over. Your betrayal was what made me _crave_ killing Mudbloods. It was never about not having pure blood; it was about having mud blood."

"I never betrayed you, how could I?" Hermione asked, praying that this Voldemort wouldn't say anything about his past self.

"Of course you did," Voldemort said. He stood close behind her and whispered in her ear. "But I see you are still wearing the ring I gave you. I'm touched. After all, _I can't imagine marrying anyone else,_" he hissed, pressing his lips against her neck. Hermione jerked away and turned to face him.

"Maybe I will forgive you if you ask very nicely," he said conversationally. "You did say that you love me. Of course, I don't love you, but a Mudblood can't have everything."

"You killed everyone," Hermione accused, shaking in anger. "I have nothing for which to ask forgiveness. However, if you ask very nicely, maybe I will make your death painless."

"Ah, still clinging to your Gryffindor nobility. And to think you were almost placed in Slytherin. You will never kill me, even though your Ministry demands it. After everything we went through together, killing me seems so blasé, anticlimactic. Maybe I will make you my pet," he mused. "A fitting position for you."

"You are not the man I knew," Hermione ground out.

"Yes, I am. I was always there, though you chose not to see it. So many things you ignored, pretending that love could conquer all. Obviously, it can't," he said mockingly, motioning to the dead bodies around them.

Hermione tightened her grip on her wand. "But what love cannot conquer, hate can," she whispered. His attention returned to her just as the green bolt hit him in the chest. Hermione noticed curiously that his eyes had seemed to change to gray as he died.

The battlefield swirled around her. She blinked and when she opened her eyes, she was back in the small room in the Auror Headquarters. She tensed when she thought about Thomson seeing the interchange on the battlefield.

"Congratulations, Auror Granger," Thomson said, stepping into view. "Though I would like to ask, I will refrain. You seem to be trustworthy, and I have never been wrong."

"Thank you, sir," Hermione returned, relieved by his response.

"Now, about your practical. The single exercises were exemplary. Though still very good, the group simulations could use a bit of work, as I suspected. Black and Dawlish have been short a team member these last few weeks and I'm sure they will be glad to have you back."

"All right," Hermione agreed.

"Very good. Mondays and Wednesdays you will report to regular training with the other trainees, Tuesdays and Thursday you will go on assignment with senior Aurors, and Friday, you will work in the Department of Mysteries," he said with faint distaste. "I truly hope that you do not decide to pursue a career in something absurd like Trelawney did. She was a very promising trainee, same year as I was," he reminisced. "By the way, here is your ring back," he said, pulling it out of his pocket. "I must apologize for my manners that day. We had just lost a new Auror to a simple Fireball Curse. Something like that ring would have saved him."

"I understand," Hermione replied, some of her angst for the man disappearing; he seemed to care a lot about his employees.

"I would be very indebted to you if you could convince Tom Riddle to make several more or show one of our enchanters what spells he used," he continued. "He would be compensated very well."

"I will talk to him about it," she promised.

"Thank you," he offered gruffly. "Now, you better hurry. The trainees leave in ten minutes via Portkey."

Hermione rushed to the training room, feeling better about her career choice than she had since the first day in the Forbidden Forest, but feeling conflicted about the rings on her finger and in her pocket. It seemed that every time her relationship with Tom went forward, something happened to remind her of who he was or might become.

Several floors below, Tom Riddle walked into the department library. "Deathly Hallows," he said quietly to the little man at the entrance. The librarian looked suspiciously at him before standing up and moving more quickly than anyone his age had the right to, in Tom's opinion.

"There's an enchantment preventing anyone from finding these books without being shown the way," he explained as Tom followed him through the winding stacks, up rickety steps, down spiral ramps, and through more than one secret doorway. Finally, he stopped. "Every time you want to come here, you will need me to show you the way. This room is Unplottable and I cannot be forced to give the directions by Veritaserum, the Imperius Curse, or any other measures. To find your way back, lay your wand across your palm and say '_Findetür.' _The wizard who created this room was from Durmstrang," he explained with a sour look. "Your wand will glow when you are going in the right direction. Don't even bother writing down the directions, because the room will be somewhere else when you get here. And you can't remove books from it, though you can copy up to five feet of parchment."

"Is that all?" Tom asked exasperatedly.

"Yes," the old man said, taking pleasure in Tom's displeasure. If he was going to have to show the young whippersnapper the way to this room every day, he wanted someone else to suffer along with him.

Tom's only purpose was to determine if the wand Dumbledore had given him was the Elder Wand. He was soon surrounded by stacks of books. Many of them were appeared to be paraphrases of the same source text, but he couldn't find the source. After a few hours, he came across an old leather-bound journal, covered with scrapes and stains. He opened it with little hope of finding anything worthwhile, but was greatly surprised. It was the journal of a traveller named Roderick who had attempted to trace the ownership of the Elder Wand.

The writer had spent fifteen years going around Europe, the British Isles, and even Siberia, trying to fill in the history of the Elder Wand. He or she had started with Barnabas Deverill in the seventeenth century, travelling to Bradford-on-Avon, where the Deverill family had lived in an old Saxon church for a few hundred years at the time of Deverill's death. Local folklore had pointed to Loxias, then Livius or Arcus. Roderick had gone to the home villages of both and collected all the information on them and their families, tracing out possibilities. By the end of his journey, he had discovered that the Elder Wand was in possession of Gregorovitch the wandmaker. Tom stood from the cramped desk and went in search of information about Gregorovitch. The librarian directed him to a much closer shelf with only a few books on it. Tom wasn't surprised when he discovered that the wandmaker had been killed by Grindelwald. He surmised that the Dark wizard had taken the Elder Wand from Gregorovitch and kept it until he was defeated by Dumbledore, something that gave Tom pause.

"_Though it is exceedingly powerful, it does not make one invincible," _Tom determined. Continuing to analyse events, Tom realised that he must have disarmed Dumbledore immediately following Grindelwald's defeat. Tom almost felt some slight pity for Dumbledore, losing the wand only hours after winning it, but he deserved to lose it if he couldn't defend himself.

"_I wonder why Dumbledore gave me the wand,"_ Tom questioned himself.

Tom resolved to think on it later. For now, he needed to go speak with Hollis.

His supervisor was sitting at his desk with a harried look on his face as he sorted through the mounds of forms in front of him.

"Never let them give you any job in the department other than researcher," he advised Tom. "People like us are distinctly unsuited for anything involving the tedium that is paperwork."

"I have some information on how to get Nichols out of the Veil," Tom offered.

"Talk. I'm listening even though I appear to be suffocating myself in parchment."

"I need the two of Deathly Hallows to enter the arch safely and bring him back. Without them, I would die, get lost, or at the least, not be able to return with Nichols."

"How do you expect to get your hands on the Deathly Hallows?" Hollis asked in horror. "The Ministry tries to get us to find them once every decade or so. The closest anyone ever got was when one of the Seer's thought that Grindelwald had the Elder Wand. The others haven't been heard of in years."

"What would the Ministry do if I were to find them?" Tom asked, feigning nonchalance.

"They would send you through the Veil and be waiting around the arch to disarm and Obliviate you should you return successfully," his supervisor admitted. "I guess I need to go to the Minister and explain the situation to him. Maybe you'll be assigned to find the Deathly Hallows. Oh well, every new researcher deserves the chance to try their luck at finding them. I spent a very enjoyable summer in Austria looking for the Resurrection Stone," he reminisced, sliding his chair back from the desk. "My fiancée even visited for a weekend. They give a very generous expense account," he clarified. "Though you might want to avoid that part of Europe right now, with that Muggle war just over."

"I'll keep that in mind," Tom replied as Hollis trudge out of his office. Tom glanced at the papers on Hollis' desk before following him. There was nothing terribly interesting, though there was a form for him to sign about a new filing system for prophecy globes. Though Tom had never had much reverence for Divination, he had to admit that some prophecies couldn't be rationalised.

Hermione arrived in the training room just as they were about to leave.

"Thomson sent me for group training," she told the Auror in charge.

"All right, take the Portkey with Black and Dawlish," he ordered.

"Hermione! Welcome back!" Alphard crowed, slinging an arm around her shoulder, pouting when Hermione shrugged it off. "Is that any way to treat a teammate?" he asked, stymied.

"If their name is Alphard Black, yes," she retorted.

"I'll second that," Dawlish commented, a glint in his eye. "Glad to have you back, Granger. I was planning on strangling Black here today. Now I'll have help."

"But Dolly, I thought we were becoming friends! Now who am I going to get to help me with my homewo-" he was cut off when the Portkey jerked them from the room.

"So, how have you been?" Dawlish said when they landed in a meadow. "We heard that you were training with Thomson. Did you get him to agree to come back to regular training?"

"Not exactly," Hermione replied. "He said that I didn't need any more individual work, but I needed to improve on coordinating with other Aurors. I passed my certification this morning."

"Congratulations," Alphard interrupted. "Now I have an excuse to drag both of you out for drinks, providing we survive today's training."

"Trainee Black, be silent," the trainer's voice boomed across the meadow.

"Yes, sir," Alphard replied, innocence dripping from every pore. Hermione couldn't believe how much he reminded her of Sirius in that moment. He probably could have given the Marauders some good competition.

"Today you will be duelling each other in groups. You will have five minutes after I finish giving instructions during which you must determine a strategy. There are no set requirements, but the last group intact will receive a bonus."

"What sort of bonus?" Hermione asked out of the side of her mouth.

"Probably finishing early, maybe individual training with a more senior Auror, no way of telling, really," Dawlish supplied.

The Auror had finished. Hermione thought for a moment before beginning to speak.

"I am very good at defensive and shielding spells, but probably not as agile as the two of you," she admitted. "I think that I ought to take care of the defensive work and leave the attack to you. Do either of you have a specialty?"

"I'm rather good at psychological spells, Confundus and the like. I can incapacitate them a bit and let Alphard finish them off," Dawlish offered.

"Sounds good to me," Alphard agreed. "Maybe I'll turn them into frogs, that could be fun," he considered.

Hermione and Dawlish looked at each other and smirked. This was going to work out wonderfully.


	30. Meeting the Minister

Chapter 30 – Meeting the Minister

Disclaimer: I have no legal right to any profit from the use of Harry Potter or any related works.

"Your five minutes are up," the instructor announced. "Black, Granger, and Dawlish versus Kovak, Schmidt, and Desade. Begin!"

Though Hermione was surprised by the lack of warning, she quickly regained her head. "_Impermateo!_" she chanted, creating a powerful shield around the trio. It would protect them from all but their opponents' most focused spells.

"Attack at your leisure, gentlemen!" she called. She turned her attention toward maintaining the shield, giving the duel only cursory attention as she considered the names of the opposing group.

In almost no time at all, the duel was over. Alphard had not added any toads to the local fauna, but he had used a modified _Silencio_ to make every word said by Schmidt sound like a bullfrog.

"Good job, you two," Hermione said. "I'm glad to see that my time away hasn't irreparably ruined you."

"Not magically, maybe, but emotionally I've been virtually paralysed," Alphard asserted.

"I thought that was because you can't get a girlfriend now that you've made them all think you've been cut off from the family wealth," Dawlish commented, hiding a grin.

"Well, there is that," Alphard agreed wryly. "But that was one of my goals in the first place," he defended.

"Which is why you've dragged me along to the pub three times this month where I've had to watch you try to woo some unsuspecting witch, very unsuccessfully, I might add," Dawlish needled him.

"They knew that I was too good for them," Alphard sniffed superciliously. "Being kind girls, they didn't want to get my hopes up before I realized that they weren't up to my standards."

"Keep telling yourself that, Alphard," Hermione laughed. "Though I'm sure you'll find someone," she added, not wanting to push him too far.

"Thanks, 'Mione," he replied as he slung an arm around her shoulders. "Now, let's go beat another poor philosopher. Or maybe a musician this time?"

"I didn't think you noticed," Hermione smirked. "You aren't the sort that I expected to be familiar with Muggle philosophy."

"I'll have you know that I have great respect for the great Marquis de Sade," Alphard retorted indignantly.

"Figures you'd know that one," Dawlish murmured.

"Granger, Black, Dawlish, you're up next against Britten, Narran and Flaherty," the instructor bellowed across the meadow.

"What are the odds?" Hermione asked, laughing helplessly as they headed over to beat the next group.

By the end of the day, Hermione, Alphard, and Dawlish had been victorious.

"Congratulations. For your prize, arrive in the training room at 7:00 A.M. tomorrow," the trainer ordered.

"What?" Alphard exclaimed. "We won and we have to get up earlier than usual?"

"Shut up," Dawlish snapped. "Do you want him switch it to 6:00?"

"Good idea, Trainee Dawlish. 6:00 it is."

"Look what you did," Alphard glared at his teammate.

"You're the one who was complaining," Dawlish accused.

"Boys, be quiet. We need to take the Portkey back to the ministry, unless you wanted to walk?" she questioned archly.

Both of them grumbled a bit at her tone, but did as she instructed.

"See you tomorrow," she said cheerfully over her shoulder, trotting down the hallway to the Floo room.

At Alphard's sigh, Dawlish turned to look at him.

"Please don't try to date her until we finish training," Dawlish asked. "She could slaughter you if you hurt her, and I don't want to get stuck those other idiots."

"She's dating Tom Riddle," Alphard said morosely. "Unless he does something horrendous, I don't have a chance, and if he's half the Slytherin my cousin says he is, she wouldn't find out anyway."

"Well, I need to be going," Dawlish hedged. "My girlfriend wanted me to take her out to the opera tonight, she's Muggleborn," he explained, "and I need to run some errands first."

Alphard waved half-heartedly to his departing partner.

*** *** ***

Tom spent most of the day reading up on the Resurrection Stone in the library, after he cajoled the wizened librarian into showing him the way the Deathly Hollows room again. Tom had too strong a sense of self-preservation to attempt to use something that powerful without knowing all the possible effects. After all, he didn't want to end up insane like Slytherin.

Just before he was about to leave, Hollis caught Tom.

"Come with me to my office," he ordered.

"What is this about?" Tom asked curiously once he was ensconced in the spare chair.

"The Minister requested to meet with you tomorrow to discuss your research. This is practically unprecedented, especially for a first-year Unspeakable. Usually, he only requires briefings from Trelawney, not individual researchers. I would congratulate you, except I don't expect it to be a pleasant experience," Hollis admitted with an uncomfortable expression upon his face.

"What does he want to know?" Tom asked.

"He will probably ask you about the Deathly Hallows and whether you've made any progress on them. I wouldn't drink anything if I were you. Technically, the Minister has clearance, so you are allowed to tell him about your research, but it's never wise to allow the politicians to know too much about what we actually do. Veritaserum would force you to tell him everything you know, and I don't harbour any illusions about the scruples of our esteemed Minister."

Tom's face was like stone. "Why are you telling me this?" he asked, unwilling to assume that Hollis was only looking out for him.

"Minister Purgen has had a tendency to view himself as above the law. If you have found out anything about the Deathly Hallows, be careful. I would not put it past him to attempt to use you to get his hands on them. You don't have to trust me with everything, but it's my job to make sure that you are with the department for many years to come if you so choose. Other than Nichols, the Minister has had very little influence here. Now, I've kept you a bit late, you can take the time back tomorrow morning if you wish, just get here in time to meet with the Minister at 10:00. Good luck."

"Thanks," Tom said, pleasantly surprised by his supervisor's advice.

Tom Apparated to Hermione's apartment shortly after he left the Ministry.

"Hi, Tom, how was your day?" Hermione asked looking up from _The Daily Prophet_.

"I'm meeting the Minister tomorrow morning," he replied. "My supervisor called me in to his office to tell me and warn me not to eat or drink anything while I'm there. He seems to think that Minister Purgen is not entirely trustworthy."

"I've heard the same," Hermione admitted. "Not from anyone in particular, but it seems that he was seen as sympathetic to Grindelwald's cause until the last few years when people in Britain learned about what was actually going on. There were rumours that he provided support for Grindelwald and ignored Grindelwald's spies and followers when they travelled through Britain."

"Then I will be careful tomorrow," Tom promised, seeing the concern on Hermione's face.

Hermione paused for a moment before speaking.

"I was talking to Thomson today and he asked me if you would be willing to make more rings like the one you made for me. He apologized for his rudeness when you met him. One of the Aurors had just died from a simple fire spell that a ring like mine could have stopped. He is willing to pay you well for them," Hermione said, a slightly pleading note in her voice.

"I'll think about it, I don't want to say anything until after I meet with the Minister," Tom agreed.

"Oh, and I passed my Auror exam today," Hermione exclaimed. "I can't believe I didn't tell you right away!" she laughed.

"So are you finished with all your training?" Tom asked, impressed.

"No, Thomson recommended that I participate in group training, since I haven't had much experience. I'll be training with Alphard and Dawlish for a few months, I think."

"Black?" Tom clarified, a bit displeased with the idea of Hermione working with a man who so obviously wanted to date her.

"What other Alphard do you know?" Hermione laughed. "He really is very good with offensive spells, his reflexes are amazing. Did he play Quidditch at Hogwarts?" she asked curiously.

"Yes, he was Seeker for five years," Tom confirmed. "I didn't think you particularly cared about Quidditch," he continued.

"I don't really, but I am interested in what kind of training he had that made him so fast," she admitted. "I can protect myself from spells with magic, but he just steps to the side and avoids them. It seems like he uses a lot less energy than I do."

"Well, your spell work is good enough that I doubt you would ever need to worry about using all your energy in a duel," Tom assured her, not enjoying her complimentary monologue about Black at all.

"Hopefully not, but you never know," Hermione agreed glumly, thinking of her conversation with the imaginary Voldemort that morning.

*** *** ***

Hermione was at work at quarter to six the next morning. Dawlish arrived at 5:55, sipping a cup of tea. Alphard stumbled through the Floo at 5:59.30, reaching the training room about two seconds before the instructor.

"Glad to see you were all on time," he said. "Now for your reward. You have the day off, enjoy yourselves. Black, you don't look so good, maybe you should stop over at St. Mungo's," he smirked.

Alphard mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like "bloody pixie toenails" under his breath before turning around and trudging back toward the Floo room, Dawlish following him.

"Alphard, Dawlish," Hermione called after them, "since we're all up, why don't we go for a spot of breakfast? I didn't take time to eat and I find myself nearly ravenous now. There's a wonderful patisserie a few blocks from the street entrance."

Alphard perked up at Hermione's suggestion. "That sounds great!"

"Sorry, I can't," Dawlish said. "I need to stop by Gringott's and take care of some business."

"See you tomorrow," Alphard crowed after him.

"You must really love French pastries," Hermione mused, completely oblivious to the real reason behind Alphard's remarkable enlivenment.

"That I do," Alphard agreed with a grin. "Now let's go get some breakfast."

*** *** ***

Tom walked into his small office at quarter to ten. He looked over the paperwork on his desk for a few minutes before leaving for his meeting with Minister Purgen.

"Tom Riddle," he told the secretary waiting outside of the Minister's office. She was the epitome of the vapid, blonde secretary. Tom's opinion of the man went down another notch. She smiled at him seductively, or attempted to anyway. When he didn't respond, she huffed and told him to go in.

"Tom Riddle, I've been looking forward to meeting you," the Minister's cultured voice greeted him. Tom turned to look at the man. He was quite good-looking and obviously well off. His clothes were nearly as well-tailored as those of the Malfoy and Black social stratus and he held himself with impeccable posture. Tom could believe that he had become Minister only because he had managed to charm all the middle-aged witches in the kingdom.

"Minister Purgen," Tom inclined his head. "About what did you wish to speak with me?" he asked.

"I have heard a great number of positive things about you. First in your class, one of the only Hogwarts students to immediately enter the Department of Mysteries after graduation, a skilled enchanter, now well on your way to recovering the Deathly Hallows. You seem to have a great future ahead of you."

"Thank you, Minister," Tom replied, not seeing a reason to say anything else.

"You aren't the most talkative fellow, are you," he chuckled, his natural artifice giving him the appearance of sincerity. "No matter, I require you to listen, not talk," he continued.

"Of any the many Unspeakables I have heard of or worked with, you appear to be the most promising. I believe that you may be capable of finding the Deathly Hallows. Such artefacts could be invaluable to the Ministry. Imagine, being able to defeat Dark Wizards like Grindelwald without any casualties, to bring back victims of murder, to conquer death! Your name would forever be remembered. We could create peace, not only for the wizarding world, but for Muggles as well."

"I am honoured by the confidence you have in me, but there is very little information about the possible locations of Deathly Hallows. Even the department library gives very few clues about them," he protested calmly.

"But I have reason to believe that you may have a few advantages shared by few, if any, others in the wizarding world. According to my close friend Setheus, your family was once in possession of one of the Deathly Hallows. That should aid you in your search. Furthermore, I may be able to give you a few ideas about where to begin searching for the Elder Wand."

"What exactly do you want me to do?" Tom asked.

"I want you to go speak with Gellert Grindelwald and find out where he hid the Elder Wand," Purgen ordered, a cold gleam in his eyes.

"The Elder Wand isn't even necessary to rescue Nichols," Tom protested, not wanting anyone to associate him with the Elder Wand in any way.

"But if we have two, we might as well have all three, and I think you are the perfect person to find them," the Minister replied.

"And if I decline?" Tom asked, unthreatened by the Minister's posturing.

"I'm not sure that I could allow someone with such an ungenerous spirit to continue working at the Ministry," Purgen mused. "Refusing to even try to help the victims of unjust death isn't the sort of thing we stand for."

"I see."

"You'll be leaving for Nurmengard at the beginning of next week. I would have pressed you to go this week, but your girlfriend, Hermione Granger, I think her name is, is in the wedding party of Louisa Brown, the daughter of my cousin. I assumed that you would be attending and didn't want to cause unnecessary strife in your relationship. After all, the Ministry's most important goal is keeping all of Wizarding Britain safe and happy," Purgen finished with a smile.

"How am I to travel to Nurmengard?" Tom asked.

"The Ministry will take care of all the arrangements for travel and lodging and provide you with an expense account and an Auror for protection."

"Do I have any say in the choice of Auror?"

"No, I believe Thomson is taking care of it," Purgen said dismissively.

"Was there anything else, Minister?"

"That's all; it has been a pleasure speaking with you. Please tell Mary, my secretary, to come in here on your way out."

"Of course," Tom said, a smirk on his face once he turned away from the Minister.

Instead of returning to the Department of Mysteries, Tom took a detour to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. He was sure that Thomson would agree to speak with him for a few moments.

The Head Auror's office door was open. Tom knocked on it and stood in the doorway.

When Thomson saw who it was, he gestured for Tom to enter.

"I hope you have agreed to make rings for my Aurors," Thomson commented, a determined look on his face.

"I am definitely considering it, but I have a few conditions. First, how much am I going to be paid? You may think me mercenary, but I could probably earn many more Galleons selling similar items privately, yet haven't done so."

"I am willing to negotiate," Thomson agreed. "How much do you want?"

"That depends on what materials and enchantments I use."

"The department is willing to pay for all your materials plus ten Galleons per hour. We are well aware that you are the only person who can provide us with these items and will compensate you fairly."

"I will agree with one condition."

"What?" Thomson asked impatiently.

"Purgen is sending me off to find the Deathly Hallows. He wants me to try to find out the location of the Elder Wand from Grindelwald and is sending an Auror with me for my protection. He said that you will be choosing the Auror, but I wouldn't be surprised if he encouraged you to make a certain decision. I want you to make sure that Hermione Granger is the Auror assigned to me. I know that she passed her test yesterday, so she is qualified. I don't care what you have to do, but make sure that any other Aurors the Minister might prefer are otherwise occupied. Hermione and I work well together, as you ought to recall."

"I agree," Thomson said, extending his hand to Tom. "I will personally assign Auror Granger to you. Now, I want you to go down to the equipment room. Auror Marin will specify the enchantments needed, order the materials, and send them to you when they arrive. Do you have any other questions?"

"Not unless there is anything you would like to tell me about working with the Minister." Tom said.

"Maybe we'll have this discussion when you return from Nurmengard. How soon do you think you could have ten of those rings finished?" he abruptly changed the subject.

"Probably before I leave next week, assuming I get everything I need by tomorrow or the day after."

"Very good, now get back to work. We wouldn't want the minister to think that you aren't adequately concerned with his request," Thomson snorted, hinting at his opinion about the matter.

"Of course not," Tom replied blandly, leaving to go see Auror Marin before returning to the dusty department library.

Tom quickly formulated a list of materials for Auror Marin that he would need in order to create and enchant the rings. After learning of the desired specifications, he sent a note back to Thomson informing him that it would take him significantly longer than expected to finish the first group of rings because of the intricate work required to include all the protection spells. Tom estimated that he would need at least five hours per ring, more than twice the time that he had originally planned. Luckily, Thomson was in a rather good mood after Tom's capitulation and not only told Tom that he could take three weeks on the first order, but also increased his wages to twenty Galleons per hour, based on the extreme hours Tom would be working: about twelve hours per day, not including breaks.

Meanwhile, Hermione was just sitting down at a quaint patisserie in Muggle London.

"Allow me, madam," Alphard said gallantly, pulling out Hermione's chair as she moved to sit.

"Thanks, Alphie," she joked.

"Alphie?" Alphard responded incredulously. "My great-aunt Hera is banging on the cover of her coffin right now. You have desecrated one of the great ancestral names of Black!"

"I'm going to get a croissant now," he said huffily after a moment of her laughter. "Do you want me to get you something Hermione?"

"A Napoleon would be perfect," Hermione said, anticipating the fondant-covered pastry.

"What do you want Napoleon for when you already have me?" Alphard whined.

"Sorry, you're not really my type," Hermione replied, barely hiding a smirk worthy of a Slytherin. "I prefer something with chocolate."

"My heart is broken," Alphard sighed as he stood up to get their breakfast.

"Am I really not your type, 'Mione?" he asked despondently when he returned.

Hermione hedged for a moment, trying to think of something to say. "I think you are just about any girl's type, Alphard," she finally said.

"But what about you?" Alphard persisted.

"Well, if I weren't dating Tom, I think I would see you as a very good prospective boyfriend," Hermione said, trying to let him down gently.

Alphard took her words far more positively than she expected. "Really? Well, if Tom ever gets too Slytherin-like for you, just let me know!"

"Sure, Alphard," Hermione agreed, privately thinking that there was a very slim chance of that ever happening, at least in the near future.

Alphard was noticeably more animated during their leisurely breakfast. He purchased a chocolate croissant, drank two cups of espresso, and was so energetic upon their re-entrance into Diagon Alley that mothers grasped their children's hands a little tighter when they spotted him. Of course, that might have had more to do with him being Alphard Black. Hermione and Alphard wandered about Diagon Alley for another hour, looking in windows and admiring various magical trinkets and relics in the shop windows.


	31. The Wedding

Chapter 31 - The Wedding

Disclaimer: Most unfortunately, I do not own Harry Potter.

AN: TINY bit of bad language (one word) in this chapter

That evening, Tom began work on the rings. He had made one small alteration to the schematics drawn out by Auror Marin. His spells and those of whomever he decided to magically bond with would be able to penetrate through the rings' protections. If Aurors came to rely on them as much as he assumed they would, it would give him a distinct advantage. He was not so naive as to believe that there was no chance that he would ever need to duel an Auror. He had planned each step and organised his materials to maximise efficiency and was just ready to begin when Hermione Apparated into his apartment.

"Hi, Tom" Hermione said, walking over to peck him on the cheek in greeting. "How was your day?"

"I agreed to make the rings for Thomson," he said, looking up from his conjured work table.

"That's wonderful," Hermione said, pleased with his decision. "How long do you think it will take you?" she questioned.

"He gave me three weeks to finish ten," Tom replied as appeared to return his focus to the first ring. "I would finish sooner, but I am being sent to Nurmengard next week."

"Nurmengard? Grindelwald's prison? Whatever for?" Hermione asked.

"Minister Purgen wants me to interrogate Grindelwald to find out where he hid the Elder Wand," Tom answered in a monotonic voice.

"Haven't they already done that?" Hermione asked curiously.

"Yes. But you haven't even heard the best part. The minister said that I would be fired and never get another job at the Ministry if I did not take this assignment. Furthermore, he wanted to send an Auror with me, presumably to report back on me. I definitely don't need a bodyguard," he sneered.

"Well, I could talk to Thomson and try to get him to tell the Minister that all the suitable Aurors already have assignments," Hermione offered.

"That won't be necessary. I've already been to see him and chosen a suitable Auror," Tom said, crossing his arms and hiding a smirk.

"Really?" Hermione asked. "Who?"

"Well, she apparently just graduated from training, but Thomson assured me that she is one of the best. I was sceptical, but agreed to give her a chance. I can't quite recall her name, something like Grenville or Grey," he said, not even bothering to hide his smirk from Hermione.

She quickly smacked him on the arm, causing him to wince once she was no longer watching his face.

"Thomson is sending me on assignment with you to Nurmengard?" she asked amazedly. "Usually, Aurors need specialty training before being sent alone to other countries."

"I was rather persuasive," Tom said smoothly.

"I'm sure," Hermione joked. "I wonder why the Minister was so adamant that you question Grindelwald?" she wondered out loud a moment later. "You're only a first year Unspeakable and Aurors have always taken care of questioning war criminals."

Tom shrugged, deciding it best to avoid mentioning the influence of the Malfoy patriarch in the Minister's decision.

"Oh, I've been meaning to ask you for weeks," Hermione said suddenly. "You are free to come with me to Louisa and Jason's wedding this weekend, aren't you?"

"I'd been planning on it," Tom acquiesced.

"Great," Hermione sighed with relief. "I just realized this morning at the patisserie that I hadn't asked you about it."

"The patisserie?" Tom questioned.

"There's a little French place a few blocks from the Ministry. I went there for breakfast with Alphard this morning. Our reward for winning the group duels yesterday was getting today off," she explained.

"You went to breakfast with Black?" Tom attempted to keep his rising irritation off his countenance.

""Yes, we had to be at the Ministry before six, so none of us had time for breakfast."

"What did you do after breakfast?" Tom asked, trying to keep his voice light. "I wouldn't have minded a bit of help in the archives."

"Oh, I just wandered around Diagon Alley with Alphard for a while, then went back to my flat. I did do some research for you," she assured him, "but I haven't found anything terribly helpful yet."

"You seem to be spending a lot of time with Black," Tom stated, a hint of jealousy creeping through his stone-cold exterior.

"Tom, are you jealous?" Hermione asked, knowing full well that he was. "You really don't need to be. I told Alphard that though any girl would be happy to have him for a boyfriend, I was dating you." She was completely oblivious to the reaction her words had caused in Alphard and were soon to cause in Tom.

"Wonderful. If he is such a great boyfriend, maybe you ought to date him," Tom accused, staring at her intensely.

"Tom, that wasn't what I meant at all! I just didn't want to make it difficult for us to work together by turning him down too strongly," she clarified.

Tom relaxed. "Not that I would have let you date him anyway," he replied nonchalantly. "He's not enough of a challenge for you. You would feel the need to mother him constantly."

"Tom Riddle, you have absolutely no say in who I date!" Hermione declared, having grown tired of Tom's irrational, in her opinion, at least, jealousy. "Just because I _happen_ to be dating you, doesn't mean that you have control of who I see and when I see them."

"Then you wouldn't mind if I started going to breakfast with Naia d'Arteme from the Department of Mysteries," Tom rationalized.

"As long as you were only, friends or co-workers, I wouldn't mind," Hermione maintained.

"Really," Tom said dismissively. "I suppose I had better owl her, then. She's been asking me to meet her to breakfast almost since I started work. I didn't mention it because I assumed it would upset you. She's very nice, part Veela, but thankfully doesn't have the usual bad temper. Beautiful, too, but then, there's no such thing as an ugly Veela."

Hermione was starting to feel a bit miffed. She had folded her arms across her chest and pursed her lips. Tom decided to go a bit further and walked over to the window to signal for one of the owls for hire constantly flying around Diagon Alley. He had just opened it when Hermione gave in.

"Fine," she said. "I promise that I will try not to meet alone with Alphard, but I'm not going to say that I will never go out with Dawlish and Alphard, they _are_ my team."

"Are you sure? I was looking forward to breakfast with Naia," Tom allowed the window to fall closed unnoticed.

"Yes, I'm sure. And you had better not go out with Naia, either," Hermione ordered.

"Don't worry about her," Tom reassured her. "One could say that Naia is too perfect to be real."

Hermione stared at him for a minute. Finally, she ground out, "There's no such person, is there?"

"Well, there is, but she died in France in 1307. Her portrait flirts with me every time I use the stairs to get to the Department of Mysteries."

"I can't believe you!"

"Don't forget, you promised not to see Alphard," Tom called after her as she flounced out the door. Uncharacteristically, she made a rather rude gesture at him before she Apparated away.

Tom chuckled. He had almost forgotten how enjoyable it was to have Hermione irked with him. It definitely made things more exciting.

*** *** ***

Work went swimmingly the rest of the week. Hermione was more stressed about Louisa's wedding than about her training or upcoming assignment to Nurmengard. When she wasn't at the Ministry, she was with Louisa, helping her organise the flowers or reassuring her about the menu. She barely had time to think about Tom, let alone owl him about the wedding or their assignment.

Tom was slightly worried by Friday that he may have gone too far with his deception concerning Black and the long-dead French Veela. Hermione hadn't spoken to him since. He decided that he would have to contact her first. Though she was supposed to come work with him on Fridays, Thomson sent a memo to Trelawney, telling her that in light of Hermione's trip to Nurmengard, he had decided that it would be most beneficial for her to get one last day of training in. In his exact words, "Our idiot of a Minister decided to send Riddle and Granger off to Nurmengard. Since I would prefer to get both of them back in one piece, I'm keeping Granger today for a bit of last minute training. That veil of yours has waited a few hundred years already, another week or two won't make any difference."

Trelawney privately agreed with him, but would never admit it, so she replied that she would allow Hermione to stay in the Auror department for the day, but only if Hermione could work in the Department of Mysteries for two days per week the two weeks after they returned. Thomson grudgingly agreed.

Immediately after work, Tom Apparated over to Hermione's flat. It was empty. Slightly irritated that what would have been his attempt at an almost-apology failed, he sullenly hailed an owl to send her a quick note.

_Hermione,_

_I have a few questions about the wedding and our trip next week. Please owl me so we can meet tonight._

_Love,_

_Tom _

He knew it was brief to the point of rudeness, but he didn't really care. She was the one who had decided to hide herself away the whole week, not he.

Hermione was right in the middle of helping Louisa out of her wedding dress when the owl from Tom arrived. Holding Louisa's train with one hand, she hastily opened the note with the other. After reading it, she felt slightly guilty. She hadn't meant to give Tom the impression that she was still upset with him. She understood what his concern had been, and after that breakfast, she was starting to agree that Alphard didn't quite realise how serious her relationship with Tom was.

"Louisa, I need to owl Tom," she said to her friend through the layers of silk and organza. "I'll be back in a minute." Hermione heard a muffled noise through the dress, but didn't wait to translate it. She sent the owl back to Tom, asking him to meet her at her flat in an hour. She was more than ready to be finished with all this wedding business.

When she went back into the changing room, Louisa had successfully escaped the confines of her dress.

"Louisa," Hermione began, "I need to leave soon. I've been neglecting Tom this week and we haven't talked about our schedule for this weekend at all."

"Well, you're going with Alphard, aren't you?" Louisa asked, surprised. "Since you are the maid of honor and he is the best man."

"Louisa, just because we walk together doesn't mean we have to go to the wedding together," Hermione replied exasperatedly. "And Tom is already jealous of all the time I spend with Alphard at work, which I can understand after barely seeing him this week."

"Fine," Louisa agreed with a disappointed look on her face.

"What time do you want me at the resort tomorrow?" Hermione asked. Louisa had insisted that the wedding occur at a luxurious wizarding resort just outside of Bath. None of the other venues had enough space for the guests. Hermione had been astonished at the number of families to whom Louisa and Jason were related. She privately attributed it to the many generations of inbreeding among purebloods.

"Ten in the morning, your hair will take extra time," Louisa replied.

"See you then."

"Don't forget your dress," Louisa reminded her as she stepped out of the shop.

Hermione waved before Apparating back to her flat.

She had barely had time to make herself a cup of tea before Tom materialised in front of her.

"Tom," she exclaimed, surprised to see him so soon. She quickly went over to kiss him.

"I guess you aren't still upset with me," Tom stated, putting his arms around her waist when she started to step back.

"No, I've just been so busy this week. Thomson gave me extra individual training all week and Louisa has been owling me constantly to help her with the wedding," she explained apologetically.

"I see," Tom said, still a little sullen about the whole thing. "So what time did you want me to meet you here to go to the wedding?"

"Well, I need to be at the resort at 10:00 tomorrow morning. Since I'm in the wedding party, a stylist will do my hair and makeup once I get there."

"So I should meet you here at quarter to ten?" Tom asked.

"You don't need to, you could just come for the wedding," Hermione assured him, sitting down on the couch and tugging Tom down next to her.

"No, I don't have anything better to do," Tom answered. He also wanted to make sure that Alphard wasn't trying to sway Hermione in his favour.

"All right," Hermione responded happily. She would finally have some time with Tom, and in a romantic setting, no less.

"What should I wear?" Tom asked. "I don't want to be over- or underdressed."

"Well, the groomsmen are wearing summer dress robes, light grey, I think, and our dresses are formal, so you should probably wear some sort of dress robes, whatever colour you want, though my dress is shades of blue, green, and lavender."

"I'm sure I'll be able to find something," Tom smirked.

"I'm a little worried about our trip to Nurmengard," Hermione admitted after another sip of tea. "It's odd that the minister would single you out and insist that you take an Auror with you. There are many guards already watching Grindelwald with more training than both of us put together."

"But he doesn't know about you, and we may have less training, but we are probably infinitely more capable," Tom countered.

"I think I would prefer that he doesn't know about me. He sounds ... very unpleasant. And I don't want to know what he would do if he found out how I got here."

"Hopefully, we'll have nothing to tell the minister and then we can forget about him and get back to our own research."

Hermione nodded in agreement.

*** *** ***

Hermione awakened at half past nine the next morning. She and Tom had talked until the early morning hours the night before, catching up with each other after her terribly busy week. Hermione scrambled out of bed and jumped into the shower she had transfigured shortly after moving in. The Wizarding World was decidedly behind the Muggle world when it came to bath appointments. She had just thrown on her dress and slipped her feet into her shoes when Tom Apparated into her flat, dressed handsomely in dark charcoal robes with a silver cravat.

"You look beautiful," Tom complimented smoothly, kissing her chastely on the lips.

"You won't be able to kiss me once I have makeup on," Hermione warned. "Are you sure that's the only kiss you want?"

"Perhaps not," Tom smirked, leaning in once again.

A few minutes later, Hermione glanced at the clock. "We need to leave now," she said, pulling back. "We only have five minutes and I don't know exactly where the room is."

Her anxiety was without merit. They Apparated and found the preparation room with time to spare.

"Good morning, Tom," Louisa said, dragging Hermione through the doorway. "The groomsmen are at the bar near the lobby if you want some male company."

Tom stared bemusedly after them for a moment before searching out the bar.

Hermione was immediately surrounded by a swarm of hairstylists, manicurists, and makeup artists. They simultaneously tsk-ed at her wild hair, ink-stained fingertips, and dry skin, nothing that had ever concerned Hermione or her boyfriend. Nevertheless, they were determined to fix all her real or perceived flaws over the next few hours. Hermione was almost afraid that Tom wouldn't be able to recognize her once they were through.

She felt slightly better when she saw Minerva going through the same process at the other end of the room, though she wasn't taking their criticisms as graciously as Hermione. Hermione sent a commiserating smile at her friend before attempting to shut out the world and think through her research. She was mostly unsuccessful, with each jerk of her hair bringing her back to the less-than-enjoyable present.

Tom wandered through the halls for a few minutes before arriving at the bar. He manoeuvred elegantly through the crowd to a group of wedding guests and groomsmen. He may not have millions of Galleons, but he believed his breeding to be equal to that of anyone in the wizarding world and consequently endeavoured to show it. He drew female eyes from across the lobby and commanded attention in a way of which even a Malfoy would approve. Focusing in on one man in particular, Tom sat down on the empty stool between Alphard Black and Abraxas Malfoy.

"Riddle, I didn't realise you would be attending the Brown-Wood wedding," Abraxas commented.

"Hermione is the maid of honor," he explained in a polite tone.

"You are still involved with the little Muggleborn?" Abraxas asked with a small cough.

"Of course, some things outweigh even blood, Malfoy."

"Like what? Is she an earth-shattering fuck?" he asked coolly.

Alphard nearly lost control of himself. "What kind of a question is that, Abraxas? She's beautiful and an absolute genius, something none of the eligible purebloods happen to be!"

"Black, I think I am more than capable of defending my choice. It is really none of your concern," Tom said in an icy tone. Turning back to the blond man, he said, "Blood is but one means to power." Mindful of the other half of his audience, he continued, "Some might say that love is the greatest source of power known to man. I am happy with her, and she is happy with me. I have no need to marry within your circle of society, and though I am not destitute, I am far from the ideal mate many parents would want for their daughters."

"I am sure you could get around that little difficulty with the right ... acquaintances," Abraxas said smoothly, fingering the snake on the head of his cane. Tom restrained a sneer at the man's vanity before replying.

"Perhaps I do not wish to at this point. Enough of this, I would hate for anyone to get the impression that I weren't fully invested in my relationship with Hermione. After all, there are many who wouldn't hesitate to try to win her affections, right, Black?" he asked airily.

Alphard snorted before stalking off.

"What was that about?" Abraxas asked curiously.

"Your cousin thinks that he has fallen in love with Hermione," Tom said, letting a sneer form upon his face. "He hasn't even been particularly covert about it. Disgraceful, really."

"I would find the act itself more disgraceful than the mechanism through which he pursues it, personally," Abraxas said with disdain.

"As I said before, there is more than one way to power. Hermione's intelligence should not be underestimated. I'm sure Aulus has told you of some of her actions at school, but he has no idea what she is capable of, or what I am capable of, for that matter," he said dangerously. Returning to a more conversational tone, he added, "She has already become a full Auror. Thomson trained her himself. She is very powerful, and though I could still outduel her, it would not be an easy feat and would be based more on my willingness to use less savoury techniques than on inherent skill."

"I shall be sure to watch myself should I ever be on the wrong side of her wand," Abraxas said sceptically.

Tom stood to go speak with a few other old school mates, leaving Abraxas staring after him calculatingly.

The wedding began at one o'clock. The room in which the ceremony was to take place was circular and inclined to a round platform in the middle where the binding would occur.

Tom was not particularly interested in the ceremony itself. He instead watched Alphard closely, almost hoping to find an excuse to duel him afterwards. But Alphard's hands remained in completely respectful positions until he separated from Hermione at the platform.

The officiate guided Jason and Louisa through their vows. After they exchanged rings, he began the binding ritual. A soft, white glow covered their entwined fingers, encouraging a round of applause from the guests. The wedding party walked back out, and it was over.

He walked through the resort with the other guests to the reception where he found Hermione.

"Wasn't it a beautiful wedding?" she asked, her eyes slightly wet.

"Wonderful," Tom said, successfully hiding his apathy.

"I made sure that you had a seat next to me for the reception. Alphard is on the other side of me," she said apologetically, "but at least you won't end up sitting by yourself in some remote corner of the room."

"That sounds great," Tom said, leaning down to kiss her lightly on the lips when he saw Alphard watching a few feet away. Alphard grimaced and turned away when he noticed Tom's stare. Hermione pulled him to the head table where the wedding party was seated.

Jason looked uncomfortable for a moment at Tom's appearance, but when Tom smiled slightly and congratulated him, he relaxed.

Louisa's parents had obviously spared no expense. The food was the finest available, with truffles, saffron, seafoods, and all kinds of exotic fruits and desserts. Hermione was happy to see that a magical wedding was not terribly different from the Muggle ones she had attended, though, instead of hitting their wine glasses, the guests shot sparks into the air to encourage the newlyweds to kiss. Louisa and Jason blushed every single time, but still seemed very enthusiastic.

Hermione felt slightly tense. She didn't want to be rude to Alphard, but she didn't want Tom to become jealous either. Luckily, Minerva and Philippe were seated directly across from them, since both had been in the wedding party.

After many hours of eating, dancing, and conversation, Tom and Hermione went to say good-bye to Jason and Louisa, who had taken advantage of a brief respite from well-wishers to escape into to the side of the ballroom.

Jason shook Tom's hand with a genuine smile, and Louisa pulled Hermione into a tight hug.

"Thank you so much for helping me with our wedding!" Louisa beamed. "You must come over for tea or dinner at our new home when we return from our honeymoon, I'll send you an invi-"

Louisa's eyes glazed over. She began to speak in a deep, harsh voice.


	32. The Prophecy

Chapter 39 - The Prophecy

Disclaimer: I own nothing that you recognize.

"How could she predict something like that?" Hermione asked disbelievingly back in her flat. "'_A new Dark Lord is rising, hidden from sight. His power will grow, unseen by those closest to him. Even those of the dawn may not withstand him.' _ What kind of rubbish is that?"

"Ah, but you forgot the best part: _ 'His defeat shall come only of his own accord: At the height of his power, the Dark One will make a choice that will seal the fate of the world, be it for good or ill.'_ How could you possibly call that rubbish?" Tom asked in return.

"I hate Divination," Hermione sighed, plopping onto the couch next to where Tom had sprawled out after taking off his outer robes. "Half of those prophecies never come true anyway."

Tom nodded in agreement.

"And poor Louisa, giving a prophecy like that on her wedding day. At least we were the only ones around to hear it. And Jason, of course."

"She didn't remember saying anything, which means it's probably authentic," Tom considered.

"She exactly acted like a friend's Divination professor did when she gave a legitimate prophecy. And Louisa has always had better luck with tea leaves, crystal balls, and palmistry than anyone I've ever met," Hermione said, recalling the uncanny similarity between her vision in the mirror they had made and Louisa's vision in a crystal ball.

"We aren't going to figure this out tonight," Tom said, rising to his feet. "We need to pack tomorrow, since we leave at eight o'clock Monday morning via international Portkey."

"Where exactly is Nurmengard?" Hermione asked.

"It's top secret," Tom shrugged. "It wouldn't make a very good secret prison if everyone knew. And they would have trouble with Grindelwald's followers trying to break him out." I'm sure we'll be able to figure out the general location, though."

"Hmm. As long as I can see a few stars and the local vegetation, I should be able to get a fairly close estimate," Hermione thought aloud.

"I wouldn't want to interrupt your careful calculations, so I'll be off," Tom said, picking up his robe.

"Good night, Tom," Hermione said, already heading toward her overly laden bookshelves.

"That's all I get for being an exemplary boyfriend?" he asked in mock irritation.

Hermione rolled her eyes, tore herself away from her growing pile of books, and went over to kiss him goodnight.

"Do you think that will be us someday?" Hermione asked, referring to the wedding.

"Possibly, though hopefully without the prophecy and some of the more irritating guests."

Hermione kissed him once more, then disengaged herself from the embrace and returned to her research.

Questions about the future of their relationship were not foremost in Tom's mind when he appeared in his flat. He was much more interested in Louisa's prophecy. He was almost positive that it referred to him. After all, he already had two of the Deathly Hallows, and no one knew about it. He smiled coldly as he considered the affirmation of his success that the prophecy had given. There was no way that he would choose to be defeated.

Once Tom had left, Hermione ended her "research" and sat down heavily on the couch. Louisa's prophecy was disturbing. Hermione hoped that it wasn't about Tom. But even if it wasn't, she would have a difficult time doing anything about it. She barely knew anyone in this time, so she had no idea how to go about finding this Dark Lord. It was even possible that there was no new Dark Lord yet. _"Rising doesn't mean risen,"_ she thought.

She returned her thoughts to Tom. _"A choice for good or ill? Maybe Tom hasn't come as far as I thought. And if he is the Dark Lord, then I don't even know how much power he has, according to the prophecy."_

_*** *** ***  
_

Tom and Hermione arrived at the Ministry at quarter to eight Monday morning. They had spent the next day packing and preparing for their assignment. The Minister hadn't told them how long they would be gone, so they had thought it best to prepare for up to a few weeks.

Thomson, Trelawney, and Minister Purgen met them outside the international Portkey room.

"Ah, Auror Granger, I hadn't realized that Thomson had assigned you to be Mr. Riddle's escort. How...convenient for the two of you," the minister said, a faint look of disdain on his features as he examined Hermione.

"Well, Tom and Hermione work well together," Thomson defended, "and I had such short notice that I decided she would be the best choice since there was no time to introduce another Auror."

"I see," Purgen replied.

"Tom, you are expected to report back to work by Friday morning at the latest," Trelawney said. "It was only at the Minister's request that I am allowing you to attempt this assignment, worthless as I think it to be," she said, shooting a scornful look at the Minister, who visibly bristled.

"The same goes for you, Granger," Thomson reiterated. "Friday morning, I expect a full report on my desk."

"I will see you off personally," Purgen said, opening the door to the Portkey room, ushering the pair through, and closing it again before Trelawney or Thomson could follow.

"Tom, I have your orders here. Only you will be able to open and view them. Granger, you are an escort only. You have no say as to the methods by which Mr. Riddle completes his assignment." He turned back to Tom. "For your sake, I wish you the best of luck," he said ominously. "The entire wizarding world is depending on your success. Your Portkey is the old silver teapot on the end of the second row. It activates in three minutes." With that, he turned and left the room.

"What was that?" Hermione asked once they had grabbed onto the teapot.

"Later," Tom said in a low voice.

Seconds later, they felt the pull of the Portkey. They were dropped unceremoniously into the middle of a rather dark, coniferous forest. It was cold, and their breath made clouds of fog in the air. Hermione pulled the hood of her cloak up over her hair and shivered.

"_Lumos,_" she said softly. A small path wound upward through the trees. She nodded toward it.

"That's probably it," Tom agreed. They followed it for a few minutes until they reached a small, dreary guardhouse. Hermione knocked on the rough, wooden door. A harsh, accented voice answered.

"Names."

"Unspeakable Riddle and Auror Granger," Tom said.

"Business."

"Interrogation of prisoner on behalf of the British Ministry of Magic."

"Pass code."

Tom opened the parchment given to him by the Minister.

"Merit," he said after a moment.

The door creaked open. A tall man dressed entirely in black with a hood hiding his features gestured for them to enter. They stepped through the doorway cautiously.

"Please, sit down," the man said, sitting in the chair behind a desk in the back of the room and removing his hood. He appeared to be around thirty years old and had light blond hair with shockingly blue eyes.

"I am Josef Karenin, head warden of the multinational contingent responsible for guarding the wizard Gellert Grindelwald. As such, you answer to me while within Nurmengard. Your minister has no power within these walls. However, a private meeting between Grindelwald and Mr. Riddle has been approved by the council, so I cannot interfere."

"I am Tom Riddle, Unspeakable, and this is my associate, Auror Granger," Tom introduced them.

"Hermione Granger, pleased to meet you," Hermione said, pulling down her hood and extending her hand to Karenin.

Karenin appeared shocked for a moment. "Your minister did not inform me that you were a woman. Only one room was prepared for you. I am afraid that it is now too late to prepare another. I apologize," he said sincerely, grasping Hermione's hand for a moment longer than necessary before releasing it.

"Don't worry about it, I've worked under much harsher conditions, Warden" Hermione assured him.

"Thank you for your understanding," Karenin said. "And please call me Josef."

"If we could be shown to our rooms?" Tom interrupted. He did not entirely trust Karenin or want him talking with Hermione more than necessary. And though he trusted Hermione, he didn't have much confidence in her ability to notice when a man was interested in her.

"Certainly, we must take another Portkey into the prison. Your room is on the lowest floor. It is structurally separated from the remainder of the prison and only accessible from this building. Here are your identification badges; you must wear them whenever you are outside of your room. They identify you to the guards as approved visitors. We are not responsible for any misunderstandings should you neglect to wear them." He handed them two silver badges with their names and a seal engraved upon them. After they had pinned them to their cloaks, he instructed them to touch a cube of black granite. They soon found themselves in a hallway dimly lit by torches.

"This way," Karenin directed. They followed him down the hallway and around a few corners until he stopped in front of a heavy door. "Here is your room. The door is immune to most spells and can only be opened by you two and the prison wardens. In case of a security breach, this black cube will automatically serve as a Portkey to your Ministry of Magic once you touch it simultaneously. It will only work for you and will give a magical signal if anyone unauthorized touches it. Food will appear in your room at 7:00, noon, and 6:00. A guard will escort you from your room to the guardhouse at 8:00 every morning of your stay. If you have need of anything, cast _Lumos_ on the Portkey and it will serve as a communication device to the guardhouse. Do you have any questions?"

"Will we be able to see the prisoner today?" Tom asked.

"No. You may only enter the prison at eight in the morning. Once you leave, you must wait until the next day," Karenin answered.

"Thank you," Hermione said politely.

"It was nothing, Auror Granger," Karenin replied with a small smile. "I will leave you now to become accustomed to your room." Once they opened the door and entered, he disappeared.

The room was nearly empty. There were two beds, one up against the two sidewalls. A table stood in the centre of the room and a small dresser was pushed up against the back wall. A narrow door led to what Hermione assumed to be the bathroom and toilet. She was correct, and though it was a bit cramped for two people, it was spotlessly clean.

"Do you have a preference?" Tom asked, motioning to the two beds.

"Not at all," she said, sticking her head out of the bathroom.

Tom set his cloak on the nearest bed and sat down to read the papers the minister had given him. None of it was terribly unexpected, though he was surprised by the minister's insistence that Hermione not be present during the interrogation. Not that he was displeased: this stipulation would make it much easier to ask Grindelwald questions concerning the prophecy in addition to those about the Deathly Hollows. The last thing he needed was Hermione questioning his motivations. She was probably already more curious about his search for the Deathly Hollows than he would have preferred.

"What does the minister want you to do?" Hermione asked, coming out of the bathroom.

"He wants me to find out where Grindelwald hid the Elder Wand and any other information he has about the Deathly Hollows," Tom said disgustedly, refolding the papers. "He's already been interrogated by every ministry in Europe."

"But we know much more about them than they did," Hermione argued. "If he accidentally reveals something, we are much more likely to catch it."

"That's another thing. The minister specifically said that you were not to be present during the questioning."

"What?" she exclaimed disbelievingly. "How am I supposed to protect you if I'm not even in the same room? Grindelwald is probably capable of wandless magic!"

"At least he didn't make me give an oath of secrecy. I can still discuss the interrogation with you," Tom said, appearing disappointed by the minister's orders.

"True," Hermione capitulated, visibly disgruntled.

"Did you bring your research about the Deathly Hallows with you?" Tom questioned, deciding it best to change the subject.

"Yes, of course. It's in my trunk," she replied, pulling it out of her pocket and setting it on the floor. "_Engorgio,_" she murmured. The trunk resumed its original size and Hermione opened it to start unpacking her things. Hermione covertly opened the false bottom and withdrew the stack of parchment and a few books. As she closed it, she caught a glimpse of shimmery fabric. She had forgotten to remove Harry's cloak. She quickly glanced at Tom and was relieved to see him reading the papers the minister had given him. She cast a Disillusionment charm on the bottom of the trunk just in case and stood up. She refrained from locking it. It would be too noticeable that she was hiding something.

She might as well have. Tom had been watching her with his peripheral vision and had seen her start at something after she had removed her research notes. When she checked to see if he was watching, he was convinced that there was something in her trunk that she did not want him to find. He would have to watch carefully for an opportunity to search her trunk.

They revised for several hours, working through dinner. When the small clock in the room chimed ten, Hermione stood.

"I'm going to shower now, do you need the bathroom for anything?" she asked, stretching and arching her back.

"No, I'll wait until you finish," Tom said, barely glancing up as she walked into the bathroom. He considered going through her trunk now, but decided to give her a few more days to forget about it.

Ten minutes later, Hermione came out of the bathroom, wearing a red silk robe he had never seen before.

"I forgot my pyjamas," she explained, blushing.

"Nothing I haven't seen before," Tom said with a smirk.

"What?" Hermione said, surprised.

"Remember when you were locked out of the Gryffindor common room the second day of school?" Tom reminded her. "Though I must admit, I appreciate the view much more now than I did then, and the robe looks to be of much higher quality," he added playfully.

Hermione rolled her eyes, but smiled as she turned away and went over to her trunk to get her things before returning to the bathroom.

A few minutes later, she exited again, this time wearing shorts and a singlet, her usually choice of pyjamas.

"Are those normal pyjamas?" Tom asked curiously, looking at the expanse of bare leg presented before him.

"Well, not now, maybe, but they were when I was in school. They were actually very similar to Muggle summer clothing."

"Hmm, maybe Muggles aren't as unlucky as I thought," Tom joked.

"Well, I don't think Muggles wear clothes like these now," Hermione laughed. "You'll have to wait a few decades."

"Not if I keep you around," Tom said, a serious look on his face.

Hermione laughed again and cast a drying charm on her towel.

"Your turn."

Tom gathered his things and went into the bathroom. The shower stopped after five minutes. Hermione waited a few minutes longer before knocking.

"Tom, can I come in? I forgot to brush my teeth."

She heard the click of the lock and opened the door. Tom was standing in front of the sink, a towel wrapped around his waist, brushing his own teeth. Hermione fought her automatic blush and stepped forward to stand next to him. He finished before her and walked out into the main room. When Hermione came out seconds later, Tom was facing away from her, pulling on sleeping trousers, but otherwise naked. She let out a squeak and began to pull her eyes away, but Tom had already finished dressing and turned around. He smirked at her flushed complexion.

"Enjoying the view?" he asked innocently. Hermione forced herself to look him in the eyes, though she couldn't help looking at his lean, yet muscular, chest occasionally.

"You're ... decent-looking, I suppose," she answered in a slightly breathy voice.

"Only decent-looking?" He stepped closer.

Hermione began to take on the appearance of a deer in the path of oncoming traffic.

"Well, it's not like I've seen that many naked men to compare you with," Hermione said nervously, edging backwards.

"Really." Tom seemed very interested in that bit of information. "How many?"

"In real life?"

Tom nodded.

"Umm, none?" she replied hesitantly.

"Then how could I possibly be only decent-looking?" Tom asked logically, taking another step closer. "I would have to be both the best and the worst, though I doubt you could possibly think the latter."

"Fine, you are very handsome, happy?" Hermione gave in, darting to the side to sit upon her bed.

Tom sat down next to her. "Extremely."

"Oh, it's almost eleven. We should go to bed now," Hermione rambled. "We should wake up at six to get ready and go over our notes before breakfast, and-"

Tom kissed her.

Hermione reflected that bare skin was completely different from clothing. She had never thought that it could make that much of a difference. If the two people kissing were the same, the kiss would probably be almost the same, too. She now knew that was not the case.

After a few minutes, Hermione regained her senses. She had somehow ended up sitting sideways on Tom's lap, her arms around his neck, one hand tangled in his hair and the other splayed across the skin of his back. Tom's lips were currently making their way to the juncture of her neck and shoulder. The strap of her top had slid off her shoulder.

"Tom," she murmured, attempting to disentangle herself. She felt him smile, or smirk, she wasn't quite sure, against her skin. She pulled the strap of her tank top back onto her shoulder and shoved his chest, steeling herself against the sensation of skin stretched over muscle. He finally quit his ministrations and looked at her.

"What?" he asked.

"_It was definitely a smirk,_" Hermione thought.

"We need to go to sleep," she said, feeling somewhat inane.

"All right." Tom pushed himself up off her bed and walked across the room to his own. "May I turn out the lights?" he asked.

Hermione nodded, not wanting to end up saying something stupid. Tom waved his hand and the lamps flickered out.

Tom lay silently in the darkness. Hermione was definitely responsive to him. If, as he strongly suspected, she had never been with anyone before, this could greatly help him to influence her toward something more binding than dating or their informal agreements. She seemed like the type of girl who would want to wait until she were engaged, or more likely, married, to do anything much past kissing. At least he could be sure that they were extremely compatible, if that kiss was anything to go by. It had definitely given him another incentive to move their relationship to the next level.

Hermione couldn't sleep. The warmth from the shower and excitement caused by Tom's kisses had dissipated, and she was now freezing cold, despite the mound of blankets. Her wand was over on the dresser. She shifted, trying to arrange the blankets to hold in any additional heat.

After listening to Hermione tossing and turning for several minutes, Tom spoke.

"Are you having trouble sleeping?" he asked softly.

"I'm freezing," she answered, "I left my wand over on the dresser, and I don't want to get out of bed to get it. It should be illegal for it to be this cold in the summer."

"I could help you with that, if you don't mind," Tom offered.

"I don't mind," Hermione said immediately.

"Just remember: it was your idea."

Hermione started when she felt her blankets being shifted and the bed dip beside her. A moment later, she felt herself being pulled back against a bare chest.

"Hmm, it's a tight fit, but serviceable," Tom commented by her ear.

"Tom, what are you doing?" she asked, moving away and bumping into the stone wall.

"Just trying to warm you up so you can sleep. I promise, I'll be a perfect gentleman."

"If you aren't, I'll shove you onto the floor," she grumbled. She was already feeling warmer and didn't have sufficient willpower to tell him to leave.

"Good night to you, too" Tom laughed quietly, before kissing her temple and closing his eyes.

Hermione's breathing evened out within minutes. Tom lay awake a little longer. He didn't know quite what word he ought to use to describe what he was feeling, but he did know that it was something much better than just about anything he had ever experienced.

AN: So, we have a different prophecy that narrows down the future conflicts. Also, though you won't see it for a long time, I have finally figured out my ending. Now I actually have a goal toward which to write. This gives me great hope for the eventual completion of this fic!


	33. Nurmengard

Chapter 33 - Nurmengard

Disclaimer: I own this not, merely borrow it.

Hermione woke to the feeling of a heavy weight across her abdomen and slight pressure directly under her breast. As the mists of sleep gradually withdrew from her mind, she recognized it as a hand, most astonishingly connected to the arm that was providing most of the weight. Her first instinct was to jump out of her bed, regardless of its warmth and comfort, and beat a lesson over appropriate sleeping positions into her assailant. However, she was quickly dissuaded from this course of action by the sensation of something else pressing against her neck and the motion of the hand tucking itself around her waist. It took her a moment further to identify the source of the first sensation. It felt odd, moist, smoother than fingers yet with similar control, wet, then not. A puff of air scorched the skin of her neck. Hermione finally recalled the events of the previous evening. She wriggled around to face Tom, who smirked at her amusedly.

"Finally awake?" he asked. Tom had been awakened some time earlier. Though he was inordinately comfortable, he was not able to resist the prospect of waking Hermione. After all, he had no idea when he would next have the opportunity.

Hermione really did try to glare at him, but a fervently as she would have wished to deny it, she had developed a miniscule fondness for his Slytherin-like smirk. The battle was lost when Tom bent his head down to kiss her. Hermione felt as though the room's temperature had reached 40 degrees. Due to the narrow width of the bed, she had the wall at her back and Tom pressing against her from the front. She gasped as he nipped lightly at her lips, prodding her to respond. At her gasp, the kiss intensified. Though not moving far from her waist, Tom's hands began to roam across her stomach and over her back, occasionally dipping under the hem of her camisole.

After a few minutes, Hermione let out a squawk and almost sprang over Tom, regaining her balance just in time to avoid sprawling on the floor.

"What's the matter?" Tom asked, confused by her response. He hadn't done anything to deserve it and was slightly irritated at the interruption.

Hermione blushed slightly. It was sure to sound at least marginally ridiculous.

"The wall is very cold," she mumbled, willing her face not to redden further. During their activities, the blanket had slipped off her and her shirt had ridden up, causing her bare back to be exposed to the rough, freezing stone.

Tom unsuccessfully attempted to stem his mirth. And he had been worried that it was his fault. Hermione really did glare at him now. It was most certainly not funny!

"Where's your watch?" she asked, peeved by his laughter.

"On the dresser," he indicated.

Hermione stalked across the room as Tom admired the view left bare by her pyjamas. She glared at the watch for a moment before growling slightly. Setting it back on the dresser in a less than gentle manner, she turned to Tom.

"Well, Unspeakable Riddle, since you're obviously awake, why don't we get started planning your interrogation of Grindelwald?"

"I don't suppose you would condescend, Auror Granger, to give me the time?" he responded, propping himself up on one elbow to look at Hermione.

Hermione grunted out, "Half past five."

Tom groaned. "Just come back and sleep half an hour longer."

"No. You woke me up, so you have to deal with the consequences," she sniped.

Tom weighed his options and decided that he was most likely to succeed with his objectives on this trip if he did as she asked. With exaggerated care, he crawled out of bed, being sure to stretch and thereby exhibit his musculature directly in her line of sight.

Hermione forced herself to ignore Tom as he gathered his clothes. But when he moved to pull off his pyjamas, she bolted into the bathroom. Tom chuckled.

Hermione gingerly opened the door two minutes later. Tom was seated at the table in the centre of the room already spreading numerous scrolls over its surface. Hermione hurriedly dug out a set of Auror robes and underclothes and returned to the bathroom. She dressed, looked into the mirror, decided that her hair was a lost cause, and returned to the main room. _"At least I don't have a crease across my face,"_ she thought reflectively, before snorting at her disordered priorities.

Tom appeared to be looking over their notes, but he was actually planning vastly different things. He had already decided what to ask Grindelwald and was much more concerned with convincing Hermione to intensify their relationship and discovering whatever it was that Hermione had hidden in her trunk than coming up with more questions for the vanquished Dark Lord.

They worked with minimal conversation until their breakfast arrived at seven. It consisted of bread, thin slices of ham, sausages, cheese, milk, and coffee.

"We might be in Germany," Tom commented.

"Perhaps," Hermione agreed. "My parents and I visited Munich on holiday once," she reminisced. "I suppose with the war, it hasn't been a very popular tourist destination."

"I wouldn't know," Tom replied. "This is the first time that I've been out of the country."

"Well, when we get some free days saved up, we can tour the whole continent," Hermione declared.

Tom nodded as he concentrated on buttering his bread.

* * *

At eight o'clock, a three precise knocks sounded on their door.

Tom and Hermione gathered their things and opened the door. A stocky guard in black robes with a hood obscuring his face stood waiting for them.

"Please follow me," he said emotionlessly.

Tom and Hermione followed the guard, retracing their steps from the previous day to the same dim hallway. A hemisphere of polished black stone protruded from the rough walls. The guard placed his hand upon it and motioned for them to do the same. Seconds later, they felt themselves being transported to the gatehouse. Warden Karenin was sitting at his desk.

He looked up at their arrival.

"You are ready to question Grindelwald?" he asked.

Tom nodded, while Hermione stood motionless, a slightly sour look upon her face.

"Please give me your wands." Tom was slightly alarmed. Hermione had not yet seen it and he was slightly worried that she would recognize it as the Elder Wand. He reached into his robes and covertly murmured a glamour spell that should disguise his wand until he returned from the interrogation. It barely cost him a moment and he was able to surrender his wand without causing any suspicions on the part of Hermione or Warden Karenin. Hermione had given her wand to the warden only a second earlier.

"Good." Karenin placed their wands into some unknown compartment of his robes and extended a black Portkey to the pair. As soon as they touched it, they were jerked to their destination.

They landed at the bottom of a staircase that appeared to have been hewn from the black granite of the mountain itself. It spiralled upward, leaving Tom and Hermione with no idea of its dimensions. The warden gestured to them, and they began the long ascent to the top of the fortress. Many minutes later, both Britons feeling slightly winded, they stopped at the top of the stairs before a door constructed of heavy, black metal.

"Unspeakable Riddle, are you ready to enter?" he asked.

"Yes."

"It is 8:17. You may remain until 16:45 but will be unable to re-enter the room again until tomorrow should you need or choose to leave. You will not receive food while in the prisoner's cell. Auror Granger, remain outside the door with me for the duration of the interrogation. Unspeakable Riddle, you may now enter."

The warden moved closer to the door and placed his hand upon it. A moment later, the door swung open. After one last glance at Hermione and the receipt of a reassuring nod, Tom stepped through the portal and into the cell of the vanquished Dark Lord. A slight clang sounded as the door closed behind him.

* * *

Tom looked around the room in which he now found himself. It was round, as he would have guessed, based on its location and the walls were unadorned, leaving the plain granite blocks in clear view, interrupted only by a bookshelf that reached to the ceiling and presumably Grindelwald's bed. A slight movement caught his eye and drew his attention to the centre of the room, where a middle-aged man clad in grey robes and hose sat at a small wooden table, perusing the books and parchments spread across its surface.

"_Geh weg, ich brauche nichts,_" the man ordered in a soft, slightly hoarse voice, not even looking up at Tom's entrance.

"I am Unspeakable Riddle. I am not a guard and did not come to inquire about your needs, but rather to fulfil a request of the British Minister of Magic," Tom responded, scarcely even attempting to hide his disdain for his superior.

The former Dark Lord slowly turned to face his visitor.

"The British Ministry sent you, practically a school boy, to interrogate me?" he asked mockingly, a hint of a German or Eastern European accent colouring his speech.

"The Minister believes that I have certain ... unique qualities and expertise that might enable me to be achieve greater success than the Ministry's previous interrogators."

Grindelwald exhaled slowly, then returned to his reading.

Tom waited in silence for a many minutes: the only noise in the room was the occasional shuffling of parchment on the table. Finally he stepped closer, still out of reach should Grindelwald move suddenly but near enough to see what subject the wizard was so engrossed in. It was a ancient runes book that Tom and Hermione had looked at during the construction of their mirror. It wasn't particularly reliable.

"There are many errors in that book. You would be better off reading _Forgotten Anglo-Saxon Runes_."

"What would you know about it?" Grindelwald sneered. "You are only a pawn of the Ministry. If you had any talent, you wouldn't have been sent here."

"On the contrary," Tom responded. "I am no pawn. The Ministry is a means to an end, nothing more, and grants me ready access to resources that would otherwise cost much time and gold to obtain. And I was sent here because I have had more success in weeks than many Unspeakables have in their entire career."

Grindelwald sat motionlessly for a long moment. He then began to speak slowly. "Prove that you are something more than a Ministry hound and I might consider speaking with you. Come back tomorrow. I have nothing else to say to you." Grindelwald stood up and went over to his narrow cot. He lay himself down, presenting the aspect of a corpse as his ascetic frame stretched out over the bed and his streaked black hair spread across the small pillow.

Tom decided against attempting any further conversation. Grindelwald had held great power for many years. Trying to resume the conversation would likely be viewed as insolence and would harm his mission. He exited the room, already planning what he might do to prove his independence from the Ministry without raising the Minister's suspicions about how he might have garnered certain information.

* * *

A slight clang sounded as the door closed behind Tom. Hermione sat down heavily on the rough, wooden bench Karenin conjured outside the door. The warden seated himself beside her. After a few moments of silence, he spoke.

"I have wanted to know, Miss Auror Granger, how you have become an Auror so quickly. You seem to be younger than most Aurors for such a sensitive mission." His English was much less polished now that he was no longer reciting regulations.

"Please call me Hermione," Hermione asked as she considered what she ought to tell him. She decided it best to use the same story she had created back at Hogwarts. "My parents were Muggle medics in France during the war. I had intensive training from a young age and even trained myself so that I could protect my parents."

Karenin sensed something beyond her words. "You were not successful?" he asked almost sympathetically.

"No," Hermione replied shortly.

"I am sorry for your loss."

"I got over it a long time ago."

"I lost my family also, but not when I was young. They were killed by Grindelwald's followers when they took over the magical part of Warsaw."

"Grindelwald and Hitler, things couldn't have gotten much worse during the war," Hermione said morosely, thinking of the war she had experienced in her own time and what she had learned in school about World War II.

Karenin nodded silently and stared at the floor. Some seconds later, he spoke again. "How long have you worked with Unspeakable Riddle?"

"Well, I knew him at school and work with him one day per week at the Ministry," Hermione answered, unsure why he was asking this.

"He watches you, like a hunter. He sees around himself but whenever he can, looks at you."

"He is my boyfriend," Hermione explained, feeling very uneasy.

"It is very strange, how blank are his eyes," the warden continued. "They are cold, not warm like a lover's eyes are."

"We have both had difficult lives," Hermione defended. "It is not easy for us to trust people easily," she added pointedly.

"You have the right," Karenin responded, seeming somewhat abashed. "I am impolite. I do not know you and should not say such things, even if we would be more familiar. I apologise."

"Apology accepted."

They sat in silence until Tom came out.

"I will take you back to your rooms," Karenin announced, rising from the bench.

Hermione looked at Tom, hoping to see some indication of how the interrogation had gone. His mouth was drawn into a flat line, and his eyes were hard and determined. He caught her questioning glance and nodded almost imperceptibly.

The walk back down the stairs was completed in utter silence. Not until they re-entered their rooms did Hermione and Tom begin to discuss Grindelwald. Hermione cast a spell to prevent eavesdropping silently immediately after the door closed.

"Well?" she asked.

"He refuses to speak with me unless I tell him something that proves that I am not a 'school boy' or 'mere Ministry lackey,'" Tom almost sneered.

"Have you decided what you are going to do?" Hermione asked.

Tom nodded and continued. "He is obviously hostile to the Ministry, so I need to portray myself as someone with no loyalty to the system, the quintessential Slytherin, as it were," he said with a slight smirk.

"That shouldn't be terribly difficult for you," Hermione smiled.

"Indeed." Tom made a split-second decision and spoke. "I think that I will attempt to make him believe that I am seeking the Deathly Hollows for my own gain. He has no respect for the Ministry, but he may respect someone powerful and ambitious. Since it is virtually impossible for him to escape from this prison, he may want to live on through his influence on another."

Hermione was very unnerved by this proclamation. "_How will I be able to know his real motives? He may actually start searching for the Deathly Hollows for himself. Or he might have already started,_" she recalled, remembering when he had asked her to find the family of Ignotus Peverell, and through them, the cloak. But she shrugged off her suspicions, composed herself, and said, "If you think it is the only way, I'll help you."

Tom was extremely pleased by her acceptance. Though this mission, he would be able to further his position within the Ministry and glean information for his personal use from one of the most powerful dark wizards of all time.

"Then we had better start planning what I should tell him, hadn't we?" Tom suggested.

By the end of the day, the pair had decided upon what Tom would tell Grindelwald in order to hopefully gain his help. Hermione still held some reservations about the tactic, but remained silent.

Tom had known what he was going to tell Grindelwald since he had left the cell. He discussed the issue with Hermione only to assuage her fairly obvious fears. If he wanted the opportunity to go through her trunk, he couldn't have her watching him incessantly.

The evening was much calmer than the previous had been. Hermione didn't forget her pyjamas or a warming charm, and consequently, required no help from Tom to avoid hypothermia.

The next day they awoke much later at 6:30. Hermione dressed in the bathroom while Tom pulled on his trousers before invading the bathroom to shave. Hermione was pleased that she finally resisted blushing when she slid past Tom's bare chest in the doorway. At least until he had closed the door behind her.

Breakfast came promptly at 7:00. By eight, they were once again making their way up the stairs to Grindelwald's cell. Exactly as before, Hermione and Karenin seated themselves on the bench outside the door while Tom entered to begin his second attempt at questioning.

* * *

"Back again, boy?" Grindelwald asked.

"My name is Tom Marvolo Riddle."

"Why should I care what your name is?"

Tom moved directly across the table from the other wizard.

"_Silencio_," he murmured, gesturing briefly with his hand. Grindelwald raised his eyebrows for a moment but immediately returned his attention to the same book of runes he had been reading the previous day.

"I have decided that the best course of action is for me to tell you a bit about myself. My mother's family was an extremely old Pureblood family, the Gaunts. This ring is one of the last remaining family heirlooms," Tom said, laying his hand on the table. Grindelwald's eyes widened and shot to Tom, appraising him shrewdly.

"How...interesting. Do you mind taking it off so I could get a better look?"

"Yes, I do mind, I know what it is. And you would die as soon as you tried to put it on," Tom said casually. "Apparently some of my ancestors preferred to save themselves the trouble of chasing after whoever attempted to steal from them. Who knows, the curses might have been placed by Slytherin himself."

" Your reluctance is understandable," Grindelwald said, more cordially than before. "You say that you know what your ring is?"

"Yes."

"Most impressive. How did you learn this? Few wizards even know that the Deathly Hollows exist."

" A book, _Tales of Beedle the Bard_. After I began working as an Unspeakable, I also learned that you were once in possession of one of the Deathly Hollows, the Elder Wand."

"You want me to tell you where to find it," Grindelwald laughed humourlessly.

"Actually, no. I already found it. There is only one that I have not yet found."

"Albus gave up the wand? To the Heir of Slytherin?"

"I disarmed him the night he returned from defeating you. He gave it to me at graduation. He seemed almost unstable."

"We were once very close friends. He was extremely distressed by the necessity of defeating me."

"Do you have any idea where the last Deathly Hollow is?" Tom changed the subject.

"Even if I wanted to help you, I could not. I know nothing of the cloak."

"There are still other ways that you can help me."

"Ask, perhaps I will decide to give you answers."

"Who within the British Ministry of Magic supported you during the war?"

"Why do you wish to know?"

"Most of the British wizarding community was strongly opposed to you. Should I need leverage, the information would be invaluable."

"But why should I tell you?"

"You will never escape from this prison. And even if you did, you would be hunted by every Ministry in Europe. They won't be able to allow themselves to been seen as your supporters, regardless of what they have done in the past. You were a convenient scapegoat, achieving their goals and taking judgement for them. When the time comes, I will hold them in my hand and squeeze their life away if I choose. I _will_ possess the Deathly Hollows and the power that they lend to their owner."

"What do you plan to do with this power?"

"I will reclaim my birthright as the last of Slytherin's line. I will be able to rule Britain with absolute power, cleanse it of traitors, and return the mudblood upstarts to their proper place. Perhaps I will even find the key to immortality and rule forever," Tom finished. A trick of the light made his grey eyes appear to glow crimson for a moment.

Grindelwald considered Tom for a moment, a faint smile at the corners of his lips.

"What drives you to aspire to this? You do not appear to have suffered so terribly in your short life."

"You know nothing about me, beyond what I have just told you," Tom snarled.

"Then tell me, explain why you have such hatred within you, Tom," Grindelwald cajoled.

"My father, the Muggle bastard, left my mother while she was pregnant. He was wealthy but refused to help her. She had to pawn the last possessions of the family just to survive until my birth. She only lived long enough to name me. I lived in a orphanage, with no idea of my heritage until I went to Hogwarts. I had my revenge, though. My father is dead," he spat.

"My story is not so different. The girl I had always planned to marry, the sister of my best friend, though many years younger, was tortured, possibly even raped by Muggles, and driven insane. Such beasts do not deserve to even live in our society."

Tom hesitated in responding for a moment, recalling Hermione's origins and her descriptions of her parents. Grindelwald noticed.

"You hesitate, Tom Riddle. Have you only been saying what you think I wish to hear?"

"No, I was just thinking of someone."

"Ah, a lover, or possibly a fiancée?"

"Soon a fiancée."

"Is she a Pureblood? Or are you a blood traitor?" Grindelwald hissed maliciously.

"She is a Mudblood," Tom admitted. "But the most powerful witch I have ever met, and I have not yet discovered her full capabilities."

"And how did a mere Mudblood manage to capture your attention?" Grindelwald asked curiously.

"She appeared in the library with her trunk and no explanation of how she got there. She dared to antagonise me and knew of my heritage as soon as she heard my name. We nearly killed each other while duelling in the first week. In fact, for the first few months, we constantly considered assassinating each other. She was the first person I had ever met who could possibly be my intellectual equal. Were it not for her blood and occasional lapses in judgement, I would consider her to be an ideal Slytherin." Unbeknownst to himself, Tom had fond look upon his face, though it was scarcely discernible through the fierce pride and determination. Of course, Grindelwald noticed it.

"Tom, do you love this Mudblood?" he questioned, casting a calculating look at his interrogator, who unconsciously turned to face the part of the wall on the other side of which Hermione sat.

"Of course not," Tom scoffed, moving to face the former Dark Lord again. "I only decided that it would be better to keep her close to me where I could use her intelligence and observe her. I don't want to risk giving someone else the opportunity to gain her loyalty."

Grindelwald stared into Tom's eyes for a moment before returning his gaze to the book in front of him. "A wise decision," he said finally. "Leave. We will speak again tomorrow."

After Tom left, Grindelwald gave up his pretense of reading the runes book. Instead, he sat staring at the bare wall across from him, considering the possibilities.

"_He is right when he says that I will forever remain here. But he lied about something: he loves her, although he doesn't know it. And if he loves her, he should be content, instead of striving after power. But I will help him, because he is the only successor worthy to continue my journey," _the defeated wizard decided.


	34. The Third Portal

Chapter 34 – The Third Portal

Disclaimer: I have no legal rights to Harry Potter.

Tom was having a very lucky day. Though he didn't yet know it, Grindelwald had decided in his favor and he would very soon discover something that held incredible importance for him.

As soon as he exited Grindelwald's cell, Hermione told him that the warden had offered to take them hiking in the mountains, since they could not re-enter the tower again that day. Tom declined, saying that he needed some time to think, but that Hermione should go if she wanted.

Hermione decided to go with Karenin and changed out of her Auror robes and grabbed different shoes. She was in such a hurry that she forgot to recast the wards on her trunk, leaving it susceptible to a mere _Alohamora_ should someone want to open it. After she left, Tom sat at their table going through notes for half an hour, just in case Hermione came back because she had forgotten something. When the time passed without incident, Tom slowly stood and walked over to Hermione's trunk. Since he had watched her close it, he was fairly sure that she hadn't put any additional protections on it. Deciding to begin with the simplest possibility, he cast _Alohamora_. The lock clicked open.

Tom raised the lid of the trunk and looked inside. His luck was still with him. Uncharacteristically, Hermione hadn't even bothered to reorganise her things before she left. Her clothing was no longer neatly folded and stacked; rather, it was in a pile in the right half of her trunk, while her books and notes lay haphazardly on the left side. Taking care to memorise the positions of everything, Tom levitated the whole mess out of the trunk onto the floor. He would start at the bottom and replace things as he moved up. If she were to return, it would look less suspicious and make his excuse that he was looking for her notes on the veiled portal more plausible. Once the trunk was empty, he ran his hands along the inside, knocking every few inches. The entire bottom of the trunk sounded hollow. Quelling his growing triumph, Tom felt carefully for a hidden latch. In the last corner that he searched, he felt something. Looking closely, he still didn't see anything. He guessed that she must have put a Disillusionment Charm on the trunk, so he cast _Finite Incantatum_ and was rewarded by the appearance of a small brass lever. He pushed the lever.

Tom was shocked by what appeared before him. The first things he noticed were several books, though none were on subjects that would have caused Hermione's trepidation. He then saw a rather large, though not extraordinary, amount of gold. The last item in the false bottom, however, caused him to inhale sharply. The fabric shimmered in the light, shifting from near transparency to absolute darkness along the folds. He cautiously lifted it out of the bottom of the trunk. The cloak's nature became apparent almost immediately. It matched the descriptions given of the last Deathly Hallow exactly.

Now Tom was left with a conundrum. If he were to take the cloak and Hermione discovered that it was missing, she would immediately suspect him. But if he didn't take it, there was no way to know if he would ever have another opportunity. Hermione would probably hide it away somewhere or even place it in a vault at Gringott's once they returned to London. Tom thought quickly, trying to divine a solution.

* * *

Hermione was enjoying herself more than she had since they arrived at Nurmengard. Though she would never have guessed, the warden, who had insisted again that she call him Josef, was an excellent guide, readily pointing spots of great natural beauty as they hiked along the steep paths through the nearby mountains.

"How do you know these mountains so well?" she asked curiously as they climbed toward a peak. "I thought that you spent most of your time inside the prison."

"Now I do, but I lived in these mountains for many months on Grindelwald's army to spy. I have walked all these paths a hundred times."

"Why did you decide to remain here after the war ended?"

"My wife and parents are dead. I wanted not to go back to my old home. I remain here to separate their murderers from other victims."

"You were married?" Hermione exclaimed.

"Yes, for two years. She was Muggleborn and was killed along with my parents. I work here as memorial to her."

"I became an Auror to try to prevent what happened to me from happening to others and to destroy dark wizards. I have no mercy for them," she added, remembering the look of sheer terror frozen in death on Neville Longbottom's face and the shrill laughter of Lord Voldemort.

Josef nodded in understanding.

"Why did Mr. Riddle choose to become and Unspeakable?" he asked.

"He needed something challenging but didn't want to deal with all the bureaucracy of the rest of the Ministry," Hermione answered.

"Why does he not work for a private company? If he is so intelligent, they will pay him to research anything he wants."

"I don't know," Hermione answered, frowning slightly. "Perhaps whatever they assigned him at the Ministry caught his interest," she shrugged. "But he didn't mention any offers at private firms."

"Maybe he did not get any. There is not a lot of money because of the war, I think."

Hermione nodded. They climbed a bit farther in silence.

"I know it is too familiar for me to ask, so I apologize to you. Will you marry Mr. Riddle, do you think?"

Hermione almost stumbled. "I haven't really thought about it, but I suppose it's fairly likely eventually."

"I am sorry if you think I am rude, but if you love him, you should not wait. I loved Maria for many years before I married her. Now I wish that I had had more time."

Hermione mumbled something to him, telling him that it wasn't terribly rude and that she wasn't upset. His question and comments were no more personal than what strangers might say to you on the tube* in London, at least when she was growing up.

* * *

Tom had come up with a solution. It was complicated and could take a fair amount of time to get exactly right, but it should work, at least until Hermione actually wanted to use the cloak.

First, Tom conjured a cloak made of black silk. That was the easy part. Then he laid it on his bed next to the original cloak. Fixing the appearance of the real cloak in his mind, he cast a glamour charm on the conjured cloak. He picked it up to examine it from different angles. It looked right but didn't have quite the right texture. This would be more difficult. After a few moments, Tom tried another spell. It was a rather nasty one, used to make something feel wet without the presence of water. Luckily, its strength was dependent on the caster's focus. Hermione would definitely notice if she felt like she needed to dry her hands every time she touched the cloak.

After the first attempt, the spell was too strong. Tom ended the spell, but had to recast the glamour before he could try again. The second time the cloak felt almost exactly the same as the original. Unless Hermione had both to compare, she probably wouldn't be able to tell the difference.

Now Tom had to make the cloak hold the enchantments while Disillusioned. He spent fifteen minutes trying various permanence spells to prevent the glamour and texture charms from ending along with the Disillusionment. Only an extremely obscure charm tracing back to the Etruscans worked. This almost relieved Tom, since it was less likely that Hermione would suspect her cloak to be fake.

Tom returned the trunk to its previous state very precisely. He stood back, extremely pleased with his accomplishments for the day. He had just relocked Hermione's trunk, hidden the cloak in his own and sat himself down to eat the lunch that had appeared unnoticed on the table when Hermione walked into their room.

"How was your hike?" Tom asked.

"The scenery is beautiful," she said quietly, obviously deep in thought about something.

"Is something bothering you?"

"No, I'm just thinking."

"About what?" Tom pushed his luck a bit further.

"Something Josef said. Did you know that he was married?"

"No. I haven't spoken to him except for official reasons."

"His wife was killed in Warsaw. He said that he wished he hadn't waited to marry her, since he had loved her for a long time before."

"That makes sense," Tom replied. Hermione sat with her hands in her lap at the table staring down at her hands and the ring Tom had given her.

"I'm going to shower," she said, standing suddenly. "We can talk about Grindelwald afterward, if you want." She opened her trunk, grabbed fresh robes, and disappeared into the bathroom, not noticing the pleased expression on Tom's face.

"_Hermione seems to be more open to the idea of engagement or marriage and she didn't notice anything different in her trunk,"_ Tom thought, smirking.

Hermione didn't press to talk about Tom's meeting with Grindelwald. Her mind was still occupied by what Josef had said. Hermione had always planned not to marry until at least her mid-twenties, practically a spinster by wizarding standards. She remembered Ron's reaction when she had mentioned her opinion to him. Hermione grimaced: no human being should be able to look so similar to a guppy.

Tom was likewise taciturn. He wanted to give Hermione time to ponder the future of their relationship.

"_She will be so much more…manageable if I let her think it was her own idea,"_ he mused. His thoughts wandered to Grindelwald. The old wizard had been uncommonly interested in his relationship with Hermione, but strangely hadn't seemed particularly disapproving.

"_Perhaps he will elaborate tomorrow."_

* * *

Thursday began much the same as the days immediately preceding it. By twenty past eight, Tom was seated at the table facing Grindelwald, ready to continue their conversation from the previous day.

"I have decided to give you what help I can offer," Grindelwald began.

Tom was surprised, but managed to keep the unusual emotion from manifesting itself visibly.

"I cannot help you further in your quest for the Deathly Hollows. However, I do know of another powerful magical artefact, which is intrinsically connected with them. As you know, the Hollows were created by the Peverell brothers. But few know that they created another set of powerful magical items, portals with unbelievable powers."

"I know about the portals," Tom interrupted. "One is at Hogwarts and the other is at the Ministry."

Grindelwald glared furiously at the interruption. "Very well, but did you know the existence of a third portal?"

Tom was shocked. He should have guessed. It didn't make sense for the Peverells to only create two portals.

"No, I apologize, I did not."

"I assume that you speak of the Empty Door and the Veiled Arch. Their locations were known to me, but I had no use for them. The third portal was the one I truly sought.

"The door allows you to escape your current situation. The arch is similar: it takes you to your final, inevitable destiny. But the third portal, that one is different." He stopped.

"How is it different?" Tom pressed.

"Later I will tell you.," the former Dark Lord replied. "Yesterday you questioned me about my supporters in the Ministry. I have decided to answer you. Name the head of almost any important department, excluding the Department of Mysteries and the Auror Department and you will find one of my supporters. Were it not for Dumbledore, I may have become "Minister of Magic" for every country in Europe by now. Most of your officials were waiting for the first possible moment to stop opposing me, especially your Minister Purgen."

"Did you receive support from other British sources?" Tom asked.

"Of course, from several of the old pureblood families, such as the Malfoys, the Crouches, and the Blacks. Everyone in polite society knew they supported me, but anyone opposed was constrained by threats from the Ministry and the families themselves. It will take many years for the network formed by their alliance with me disappear and more still for them to forget the promise upon which they placed their hopes. They have known for decades that the wizarding world is changing. They hoped to stall and reverse the change and maintain their feudal control and I was the only one powerful enough to achieve their goal. Now, there is a vacuum. They desire a leader, but no one is capable of holding their allegiance. Purgen wants to try, but is a fool." Grindelwald stood and began to pace. "He thinks that possessing the Deathly Hollows will enable him to usurp my place. He is weak, bribing the old families with stories of a return of Pureblood supremacy."

"Wasn't that one of your goals?"

"It was not a goal, it was a means to an end."

"You said yesterday that Muggles killed your fiancée, driving you to seek revenge."

"Fool! I do not like Mudbloods and their ilk and I wanted revenge, but my goal was not to exterminate them. I am no ideological demagogue. I used the fear the Purebloods hold for the changing world to gain their support. Had the Mudbloods and blood traitors been more powerful, I would have led them against the Purebloods, decrying their fear of modernity."

"So what was your goal?" Tom asked, though he was sure he already knew the answer.

"What do you think?" Grindelwald sneered. "Power. I had the Elder Wand, but there was little chance that I would be able to collect all three, enabling me to use the last portal. I had to make do with what was available."

"You haven't told me yet what the third portal does," Tom reminded him.

"I only know this: while the other portals give you no control over your destination, the third portal will take you to a reality where your greatest desires are fulfilled."

"You have no idea where it is?"

"No. Search for a looking glass and maybe someday you will find it. Now go. I will not speak with you tomorrow. Give the Minister my greetings and tell him that I destroyed the Elder Wand when I realised defeat was imminent." Grindelwald turned away.

"Farewell," Tom said, knowing that he would probably never see the beaten wizard again.

Tom, Hermione and the warden made their way down the stairs for the last time. Once they were in Karenin's office, Tom told them what had happened.

"Grindelwald refuses to speak with me again. I think that I have gotten all the information from him that I can, so we will be leaving tomorrow directly after breakfast," he stated simply.

"I shall prepare for your departure," Karenin said in his usual reserved manner.

Tom and Hermione returned to their rooms. As soon as the door was closed behind them, Hermione cast a spell to prevent anyone from hearing them and began asking questions.

"What did he tell you about the Deathly Hallows?" she questioned excitedly.

"He told me that he destroyed it when he was defeated to prevent anyone else from claiming it. He didn't have any new information about the other Deathly Hallows," Tom replied.

"Do you think he told you enough for Minister Purgen?"

"I think so. And I doubt that even he could bully Trelawney into sacking me, so I'm not going to worry about it," he said sensibly.

"I hope you're right," Hermione mumbled, slight frown lines appearing between her eyes.

"Don't worry about it," Tom ordered, pushing her chin up and pecking her on the lips. "We should get ready to leave. I don't want to stay here any longer than necessary."

Hermione nodded her agreement.

After they had begun to organise and pack their notes and research materials, Tom asked Hermione what she and Karenin had spoken about while he was with Grindelwald.

"Oh, he did most of the talking. I think he's lonely. He talked about his wife again. He said I reminded him of his her a little. He met her when they were in school at Durmstrang, but they didn't get married until six years after they graduated."

"That sounds reasonable," Tom said, trying to inconspicuously get Hermione's opinion on marriage.

"Yes, but I'm beginning to realise how different life is now compared to my time. I'm the only female Auror this year, and I haven't seen any women other than Trelawney in the Department of Mysteries. It seems as though everyone I know will end up married years before I had planned to even start thinking about marriage."

"I'm pretty sure that I won't be getting married any sooner than you will," Tom said, only half joking.

Hermione blushed a little, but soldiered on nervously. "Tom, I've been wanting to ask you something for a while. We've talked about getting married eventually, but I need to know some things before I can seriously consider it."

Tom was elated. She had brought it up with barely any prodding on his part. "You can ask me anything," he reassured her.

"Well, I think you've noticed by now that I'm not exactly housewitch material, and I'm never going to be. My only serious boyfriend before I came here expected me to stay at home, make babies and cook and clean once the war was over. If you want the same thing, I need to know now. I don't think I could handle getting engaged or married only to find out that you wanted me to give up everything I've worked so hard for. I love you, but I think I would come to hate you if you forced me to quit my training or job. I would rather lose you than suffer through that," Hermione paused uncertainly.

Tom walked over to stand directly in front of her and tilted her face up to look at him. "Hermione, I would never do that to you. While I think you are beautiful, your mind is what attracted me to you the most. I admire your determination and ambition. They make you my equal, something I had almost given up on finding. I would let you do anything that would make you happy. Does that answer your question?"

Tears welled up in Hermione's eyes. "You have no idea how much that means to me, Tom," she smiled.

"So, I can be fairly sure that you will say 'yes' when I ask you to marry me?" he asked with a quirked grin.

Hermione nodded happily, a smile stretching across her face. Tom met her lips with his own and wrapped his arms around her waist. Hermione gave herself up to his kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling herself closer to him.

Tom brushed the seam of her lips with his tongue, prompting them to open. She moaned softly and pushed up against him, moulding herself to his body. A few minutes later, Tom pulled back, out of breath. He looked down at his handiwork proudly. Hermione's lips were flushed and slightly swollen and curly tendrils had escaped from her serviceable bun to frame her face. He barely resisted the urge to kiss her again.

"Hermione," he said, trying to focus her attention. Her eyes snapped to him and she blushed even more.

"Yes, Tom?" she answered, avoiding meeting his gaze directly.

"We should probably get back to work."

"Oh, of course." She began to wriggle, trying to disentangle herself from his arms. Giving in to his baser instinct, Tom kissed her on the lips again, nibbling softly at her lower lip before letting her go. She quickly turned back toward the table and their work, though she wasn't able to prevent herself from looking at him every few minutes for the rest of the afternoon.

Hermione could barely recall ever being this happy. She had been worried even before graduation about what he would expect of her in their relationship. He had acted as though it were completely normal for a witch to marry and give up all opportunities outside of the home when Louisa announced her engagement. When Hermione had realised that it actually was normal in this time, she nearly panicked. Only her hectic schedule for the last few weeks had kept her from dwelling on her worries. Then Josef brought the topic up again and resurrected her unease. Reflecting on Tom's answer, Hermione thought that she should never have doubted him. He had never been anything other than supportive of her goals, unlike Ron, and enjoyed talking about things like uncommon charms and Arithmancy equations. She was actually looking forward to getting engaged and married to Tom, Hermione admitted to herself with a small Mona Lisa smile.

Tom was ecstatic. It had gone better than he could have hoped for. In the space of one day, they had gone from a possible marriage after several years to a definite marriage within the near future.

The other focus of his life was progressing equally well. He had all three of the Deathly Hallows and information for one of the most powerful magical artefacts in existence that would give him whatever he desired. As long as he kept Hermione from discovering that the switched cloak, there was almost no way for his plans to fall apart.

They finished the last preparations for their departure shortly before dinner. After their sufficient, though uninspiring, meal, Hermione went into the bathroom to get ready for bed. The week had been very tiring, and the sooner she went to sleep, the sooner she could wake up and take the Portkey back to London. Once she was finished, she pulled a book out of her trunk and sat down at the table, intending to read until she was tired enough to fall asleep. Tom copied her idea, planning to sleep early in order to be ready to leave first thing the next morning. When he came out of the bathroom, Hermione was huddled in a blanket, reading a book on timed transfiguration.

"You look cold," Tom commented attentively.

"I _am _cold," Hermione responded. "I can't read with the covers pulled around me and I hate having to recast warming charms constantly," she complained. "How are you not freezing?" she asked, looking at him, dressed once again only in a pair of cotton pants.

Tom shrugged as he walked over to her.

"What are you doing?" Hermione asked.

"You don't want to cast a warming charm, but you want to be able to read your book. I might have a solution," he smirked.

"What solution?"

"Body heat," he answered, a devious look in his eyes. Moving quickly, he picked her up, causing her to squawk and almost drop her book as she reached up to grab his shoulder, and carried her over to her bed, depositing her on the mattress. He unwrapped her blanket, sat down next to her and rewrapped the blanket around both of them, careful to leave her arms free for her book.

"Isn't this better?" he murmured into her ear.

"Maybe," Hermione replied, smiling slightly before turning her attention back to her book. Tom sat there contentedly, sometimes skimming the pages she was reading, but mostly thinking about his future.

Around an hour later, Tom realised that the pages had stopped turning. He looked down at Hermione. Her grip on the book had slackened, allowing it to slip down onto the bed. Curly hair snaked across his chest where her head rested. He moved to leave, but she nestled closer to him under the blanket. Feeling no strong desire to wake her just to return to his own cold bed, Tom manoeuvred them so their heads rested on the pillow. Cautious not to disturb Hermione, Tom waved his hand at the lights. They flickered for a moment before fading away, leaving the couple in complete darkness. Tom wrapped his arm around Hermione's waist before abandoning himself to sleep.

* Looked tube up in Oxford Dictionary, apparently it can mean either television or subway.

AN: Here we are, the first mostly new chapter. I'll warn you now, I expect a lot of reviews from now on. If you are having trouble reviewing because you reviewed the chapter before revision, just review anonymously with your username and I'll try to reply if you want me to.


	35. Return to London

Chapter 35 - Return to London

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter universe belongs to Ms. J.K. Rowling, not me.

Hermione woke to warm puffs of air on her cheek. She opened her eyes to find herself facing a sleeping Tom, who had one arm above his head and the other arm wrapped around her waist. She gazed at his face, giggling softly at how innocent he looked while sleeping. He would be horrified at being thought innocent.

"Hermione," Tom mumbled, tightening the arm around her waist and burying his face in her hair. Hermione's face was pressed up against his shoulder. Feeling slightly mischievous, she placed a light kiss at the spot where neck and shoulder met. He shuddered, only just beginning to emerge from slumber. Hermione stretched up and kissed his jaw, only to get the same response. Finally, she squirmed up far enough to kiss him properly. At first, he didn't respond, but after a few seconds, he started participating in the kiss. When Hermione pulled back, Tom was looking at her with foggy, sleep-blurred eyes. She smiled sunnily at his slightly confused expression.

"Good morning," she said brightly.

"What time is it?" Tom groaned, blinking slowly.

"No idea, but there's no breakfast yet, so it can't be past seven."

"Then we don't need to get up yet?" he asked, a sly smile forming on his face.

Hermione shook her head.

"Then I have time to repay you for acting as my alarm," he declared before covering her lips with his. By the time they broke apart to regain their breath, Hermione was lying on her back and Tom was looming over her, a heated look in his eyes as he looked down at her. Hermione was reminded of the evening when she had gone to the Diamond Sphinx. Just as Tom started kissing her again, the muffled clank of dishes alerted them to the time.

"We had better get ready to leave," Hermione said, waiting for Tom to move so she could get out of bed. Tom grumbled as he got up, then grabbed his robes and quickly walked into the bathroom. Hermione lay in bed a moment longer, pondering what had just happened. Tom made her feel things she had never felt before. She had loved many other people in her life, even Ronald Weasley, disappointment though he had been, but none of them had been able to make her seriously consider giving in to her less cerebral feelings. She had no idea what she would do if he started pressuring her to intensify their physical relationship. Tom had a way of causing her to question her most fundamental assumptions about life. She sighed and began to get ready for the day.

Within the hour, they had packed everything and were on their way to the warden's office, anxious to return home.

"You have everything you need?" Karenin asked one last time.

"Yes, we do," Hermione said.

"Then I will take you to the Portkey location."

They walked silently back to the clearing where they had arrived at the beginning of the week. Just before they touched the Portkey to go back home, Hermione hugged Karenin.

"Thank you, Josef," she said.

"You are welcome, Hermione," he said. "I will miss your company. Take the Portkey now; it activates very soon. Farewell."

The Portkey whisked them away as soon as Hermione touched it. They appeared back in the international Portkey room seconds later.

A Ministry official was waiting for them.

"The Minister has decided that you will report to him on Monday, so you may go home, Unspeakable Riddle. Auror Granger, Thomson is already in, so you ought to go speak with him immediately. He will decide whether you get the day off." The official left to go speak with a couple who had just arrived.

Tom and Hermione walked together to the Auror department.

"I'll see you later, Tom," Hermione said, kissing his cheek before heading off to talk with her superior.

Hermione stepped into Thomson's office.

"Auror Granger, I hope your mission went well," Thomson greeted her.

"I didn't actually do much," Hermione said. "Purgen required me to wait outside the room while Unspeakable Riddle interrogated Grindelwald. My presence seemed more like a formality than anything else."

"I am not surprised. Purgen has never been terribly fond of Aurors. We remind him that he isn't above the law, however much he might wish to be," Thomson snorted. "If you have nothing to tell me, then you might as well take the day off. We don't have any group exercises scheduled for today anyway. Oh, before I forget, here's your pay for the week. Since you were on assignment, you got a bonus."

"Thank you, sir," Hermione replied.

"I'll see you on Monday," Thomson said gruffly.

Hermione happily Floo-ed home to her apartment. She dumped out the pouch that held her pay and was shocked for a moment. "_Only twenty-five Galleons?_" she thought. At first, she could hardly believe how low her salary had turned out to be, but as she thought about it more, she realised that she could buy a lot more with twenty-five Galleons now than in the future. She put the coins back in her pouch and tossed it on the console near the door. She pulled her trunk out of her pocket and expanded and unpacked it. She decided to leave the cloak Disillusioned on the bottom. After all, no one would bother looking for something in an empty trunk.

Tom went home with plans to begin his work on the Aurors' shielding rings. They were paying him nearly the average Ministry worker's annual salary for each ring*, so by the time he finished them, his savings would be a fairly significant sum. He also expected to earn a bonus for his work with Grindelwald, even though he had not gotten the information Purgen had hoped for.

Seven hours later, Tom had completed the prototype for the rings. The next nine would go more quickly. _"140 Galleons already, the same as my salary,"_ Tom thought, considering what he might spend it on. He looked at the clock: it was only half past three. He waved his wand out the window to get an owl, to which he tied a note asking Hermione if she wanted to go out to dinner.

In less than twenty minutes, Tom received Hermione's reply. She wanted to know what time he would come by her apartment. He Owled her the time and went back to his work.

At six o'clock, Tom Apparated into Hermione's apartment. As soon as she heard him, Hermione called out, "I'll be ready in a second!"

Tom walked over to browse her bookshelves while he waited for Hermione to come out of the bathroom.

"I'm ready," she said as she emerged a few minutes later, dressed in a light coral cotton dress. "Where are we eating?"

"A little French place just off Diagon Alley," Tom replied. "We can Apparate there, since it's charmed to be invisible to Muggles." He pulled her hand through the crook of his arm. "Are you ready?" he asked.

Hermione smiled and nodded, steeling herself for the odd sensation of Side-Along Apparation.

Dinner was incredibly relaxing. Their table was outside on the patio, surrounded by white azaleas. After the past week at Nurmengard and the changes in their relationship, it was a relief to just be able to sit and talk about whatever they wanted, especially for Hermione.

"I wonder how Louisa and Jason are doing?" she wondered aloud as she tapped the caramelised crust of her coconut crème brulee.

"I'm sure they are fine," Tom said, watching her ecstatic expression at the first bite of her dessert. After two more spoonfuls, he succumbed.

"Give me a bite," he ordered, a slight smirk belying his dictatorial tone. She looked at him with narrowed eyes for a moment before slowly extending her spoon across small table. He held the dessert in his mouth for a moment before swallowing with a small grimace.

"It's too sweet," he complained, reaching for his water glass.

Hermione snorted at him. "_You _just have no taste in desserts."

"I plan to get my preferred dessert later." Hermione glanced up at him suspiciously at this comment. Tom did nothing except smile.

After he paid the bill, Tom Apparated them back to Hermione's apartment.

"I thought you were getting dessert somewhere else," Hermione asked, a little confused.

"I almost forgot," Tom said. With a sly grin, he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her, tasting the coconut, cream and sugar from the crème brulee.

"I think I like it much better this way," he grinned as he looked down at Hermione's flushed countenance.

He kissed her quickly once more, then led her over to the couch where he seated himself and gestured for her to join him. Once she was sitting, he pulled her up against his side.

"What are you planning on doing this weekend," he asked.

"I thought I might visit Minerva. I've barely seen her since we graduated, and we didn't have much of a chance to talk at the wedding. There are also a few things I need to buy now that I've gotten my pay. What about you?"

"I'll probably spend most of my time working on the rings for Thomson. It pays well, and I would prefer to get them finished so I can go back to my regular work in the Department of Mysteries. I might write down a few things for Purgen if I have time, but there really isn't much to tell him."

"I hope he doesn't get upset with you," Hermione said worriedly. "It almost seemed like he was expecting you to come back with all three of the Hallows in hand."

"I doubt that he could force Trelawney to dismiss me, if it comes to that," Tom reassured her.

Tom left an hour and a good-bye kiss later. He was astonished by how quickly time seemed to pass when he was with Hermione. When he was ensconced in his favourite chair, he began planning in earnest. He had been honest with Hermione when he told her what he was doing this weekend, but she had no idea what he intended for the coming weeks.

He needed to find some way to get Nichols back from the Veil without anyone connecting it to him. There were several problems to overcome.

He couldn't afford to be seen entering the Ministry, much less the Department of Mysteries, and the whole building had anti-Invisibility wards everywhere, and he wasn't sure that the cloak would work against them. Furthermore, he had to make sure that Nichols, if he was successfully brought back, couldn't recognise him. In fact, it would be better if he couldn't even remember what had happened. Lastly, it might make his life very uncomfortable if the Ministry realised that _someone_ had two of the Deathly Hallows, and since he had been working on finding them, though with supposedly little success, they were likely to suspect him. He needed to find an alternate way to explain Nichols reappearance, perhaps by a different interpretation of the rune inscriptions.

As Tom thought about it, he recalled the spell Hermione had used in their Defence Against the Dark Arts N.E.W.T. Instead of causing invisibility, it made everyone ignore the caster. Tom went over to the shelf holding his notebooks and pulled one out, leafing through it until he found the desired spell. He didn't want to use the wrong incantation for such a powerful enchantment. Casting it upon himself, he shuddered at the slightly prickly feeling it caused when first cast. He would try it out on Diagon Alley during the weekend.

The second problem was relatively easy to solve. He needed only to Obliviate Nichols' memories since the day he fell through the Veil.

Unfortunately, the last obstacle would not be surmounted so easily. He would need to spend some time researching next week so he would have an explanation ready once Nichols reappeared. O'Moriarty would probably be difficult to convince with anything less than an academically stellar interpretation of the inscription.

The next morning, Hermione Owled Minerva, inviting her over to her apartment that afternoon. Around lunch, she received a reply. Her friend would arrive within the hour. Soon, someone knocked on her door. Hermione opened it and was greeted with a hug from Minerva.

"Where have you been since the wedding?" Minerva asked curiously. "You left so suddenly."

"You won't believe everything that has happened this week," Hermione said.

"Try me. It can't be crazier than some of the other things you've told me," Minerva laughed as they sat down in the living room.

"Well, first, Louisa made a prediction about a rising Dark Lord when we left. I don't want to think that she meant Tom, but I can't just ignore what he became in the future."

"You know, there are dark wizards in the world other than Tom Riddle," Minerva reminded her.

"I know," Hermione sighed. "Then I was sent on assignment for the whole week. I just got back yesterday."

"Where did you go?"

"Tom and I were sent to-" Hermione broke into a coughing fit.

"Apparently, I'm not allowed to say," she told her worried friend. "That's the result of the Non-disclosure Charm."

"You and Tom?" Minerva asked, refocusing on their conversation.

"Yes, I was assigned to be his bodyguard, of sorts."

"So you spent a whole week with Tom."

Hermione nodded. "On top of that, the place we stayed thought that I was male, so they put Tom and me in a room with two beds instead of separate rooms."

"How was that?" her friend asked mischievously.

"It was fine," Hermione replied, unable to hide her blush. When Minerva stopped laughing, Hermione decided to turn the tables.

"How have you and Philippe been?" Hermione queried, eyebrows raised in innocence.

Now it was Minerva's turn to blush. "We're fine. I met his parents at the wedding last week."

"What are they like?"

"Believe it or not, they are very dignified, the complete opposite of Philippe, who is a borderline exhibitionist," Minerva commented with a snort, obviously thinking of some specific offense.

"What did he do?" Hermione barely kept herself from giggling.

"He decided that kissing me in the entryway of the Ministry, and blocking all the traffic, was a good idea. I've been getting snide comments from all the female employees and leers from all the males. It's been almost impossible to get any work done."

"Did you tell Philippe?" Hermione asked.

"Yes. He just said that they were envious of my boyfriend and his girlfriend and told me to ignore it," she sighed. "While I like kissing him, I _hate_ it when he does it in front of other people."

"It sounds like he's a little possessive," Hermione commented. "What better way to tell all your colleagues that you're attached than to kiss you right in front of them?"

"It's not like I would ever consider dating one of them," Minerva retorted.

"Tom doesn't like it when I talk about Alphard Black, even though he's one of my partners for Auror training," Hermione shrugged. "Philippe is much more gregarious than Tom, but he might really be insecure about your relationship."

"I never thought of that," Minerva admitted. "I though he just enjoyed embarrassing me."

Hermione laughed. "He probably does, but he might have more than one reason for it. You know, this is a little odd. Usually you're the one giving me relationship advice."

"I think you have surpassed my level of expertise now," Minerva replied thoughtfully.

Hermione's expression became serious. "Tom and I started talking seriously about marriage this week."

"Already?" Minerva was shocked. "I thought you wanted to wait a few years."

"I _did_, but I know that I love Tom, and he loves me. I don't want to lose any of the time we have together if I can help it."

"I just can't see you as a housewitch," Minerva said doubtfully.

"Tom said he didn't expect me to quit working. He was actually very supportive of me continuing my career."

"That's a very strange opinion for a wizard to have. There are barely any witches that work after they are married, and most wizards I know prefer it that way. You're sure he meant it."

"Yes. He didn't even hesitate when I asked him about it. He told me that he would let me do anything that would make me happy."

"Wow," Minerva breathed. "I'd have never expected Tom Riddle to say something like that. He seemed very controlling at the Diamond Sphinx."

"I did purposely provoke him," Hermione admitted. "But we both apologised and discussed what happened."

"Well, if he was serious about letting you keep your job after you get married, maybe you should marry sooner. There aren't very many wizards that would put up with a wife who worked."

"What about Philippe?"

"We haven't really talked about it. I've been more concerned about when and where he's going to play Quidditch. He has several offers, but most of them are for positions with teams from France. I don't want him to leave, but I don't want him to be unhappy staying here, either."

"It sounds like you have quite a lot that you need to talk about," Hermione remarked.

"Yes, but what if he _does _leave?"

"I doubt he would have gone to this much trouble just to date you if he wasn't serious about it. But I think you are just making each other nervous by not talking about it,"

"Why is it so impossible to be rational about your own relationships?" Minerva asked, frustrated.

"What would be the fun in that?" Hermione laughed. "Do you have anything else planned for today?" she asked, changing the subject.

"No. Do you?"

"I was planning on doing a bit of shopping. Thomson paid me yesterday, so I want to get a few items for my flat. I'm always worried that some of the conjured items are just going to disappear."

"I bought most of my things at Mercer and Tishey's, just across from Gringotts. They sell everything from curtains to doorknobs. What exactly did you need to get?"

"I wanted to buy a table and set of chairs. The chairs I have right now are conjured, and the table was just a cheap one that I picked up to use until I could get a better one. Also, I need to get some linens, towels, tablecloths and the like."

"You can definitely get all that at Mercer and Tishey's."

"Then we can go there first, if you don't mind. And I just realised that I haven't seen your flat, yet."

"We can Floo over after you finish shopping," Minerva suggested.

An hour and a half later found Hermione paying for a round oak pedestal table, matching chairs, two tablecloths and napkins. She was once again surprised by how far a few Galleons could go.

"I don't think I've ever spent that much at once," Minerva said as they walked to the public Floo, a little shocked by how prosaically Hermione had paid for her purchases.

"I got a bonus for my assignment this week," Hermione shrugged, thinking of what Minerva's response would be if she knew about sum of money she had brought with her from the future. Needless to say, with over a hundred Galleons sitting back in her flat, spending twenty or so on furniture that she planned to use for many years wasn't that astonishing.

Minerva's only comment was to raise her eyebrows slightly. "I rent a room from an old distant relation, Hepzibah Smith. She's a second cousin one removed on my mother's side. She's rather silly, but the rooms are very nice for the rent she charges me," she explained before she ducked into the fireplace.

"Smith House, kitchen," she said clearly before disappearing in green flame. Hermione followed suit and found herself in a large kitchen, an old house elf staring up at her with wide eyes.

"Is you one of Miss Minnie's friends?" the elf asked curiously. "You look like you won't eat so much of Hokey's cooking as the big, funny one," it added with a disapproving expression.

"She means Philippe," Minerva rolled her eyes from across the room. She led Hermione up a few flights of stairs to her rooms. Hermione was in awe. They had huge windows covered by gauzy fabric that looked out over the stereotypical English garden, complete with a small pond on which swans floated peacefully.

"This view is amazing!" Hermione exclaimed.

"I was afraid that she would stick me in the servant's quarters, but instead she gave me a whole suite of rooms, the best in the house after hers, according to Hokey," Minerva said happily.

"Does Philippe come over often?" Hermione asked.

"Almost every evening after I get off work. My rent includes board, so we eat down in the kitchens sometimes. Otherwise, he takes me out for dinner. At this rate, I'll gain twenty pounds before Christmas," she laughed.

Hermione spent the rest of the afternoon with Minerva. At around five-thirty, Philippe walked into the suite.

"Minnie-" he began, then stopped when he say Hermione. "Hermione, I haven't seen you in ages," he cried. "How have you been?"

"Busy," Hermione laughed at his exuberance. "What about you?"

"I've been enjoying a bit of a vacation the last few weeks. I spend my time with Minnie or dreaming of her," he said, aiming a flirtatious grin at his girlfriend, who rolled her eyes even as she failed to prevent a blush.

"I had better get going," Hermione said, looking at her watch. "Tom is working on an project, and I was planning to take some dinner over to his flat."

She went over to hug Minerva before she left, and murmured, "Talk to him," reminder her friend of their earlier conversation.

Hermione Floo-ed back to her flat and was pleased to find that the shop had already delivered her new purchases and taken her old table and chairs. She set about cooking dinner, deciding to keep it fairly simple. She wanted to feed Tom, not poison him. By half past six, she was knocking on his door, her other hand supporting containers of broiled chicken, potatoes and broccoli. A salad was levitated in the air next to her.

She heard something clatter. The door opened a few seconds later. When he saw her, Tom's irritated expression melted away. He grabbed the floating salad, and moved aside, giving her room to come in. He had a light sheen of sweat on his forehead from the head created by the spells he used to shape the rings. His stomach growled as he caught the aroma of the food she had brought. He had been so focused on his work that he hadn't eaten lunch.

His table was covered with notes and materials for the rings. Considering it for a moment, he waved his wand, stacking everything on one half of the table. He then expanded it a few feet, giving them just enough room for their meal.

"I figured that you probably wouldn't take the time to make anything for dinner, so I decided to bring my dinner here," she explained with a smile.

"Thanks," he said gratefully, going into his small kitchen to grab some plates, silverware and glasses.

"How did your work go today?" Hermione asked while they ate.

"I'm almost finished with the fourth ring. Each one takes me just under five hours, and I don't think I can make the process any more efficient. Hopefully, I'll be done with all ten by the end of Tuesday and able to go back to my normal job, though it depends on how long my talk with Purgen takes on Monday," he answered.

"I have no idea what Thomson is going to have me do this week. There won't be more than one or two group exercises, so I'll probably start getting some of the more boring assignments, but almost anything would be better than being stuck doing paperwork," she grimaced.

"I don't think that Thomson would stick you in a desk job after going to the trouble to accelerate you through training," Tom reasoned.

"Merlin, I hope not," Hermione said, quirking the corner of her mouth when she realized what she had said.

"What are you smiling about?" Tom asked curiously, his fork pausing in midair.

"I just said 'Merlin,'" Hermione explained. "I don't think I've ever said it before. Wizarding idioms are finally creeping into my vocabulary. I used to get so irritated with one of my friends when he said it. I told him that Merlin probably couldn't hear and wouldn't care even if he could, so he should quit bothering him," she said, smiling at the memory. She noticed then that thinking of Ron and Harry no longer caused the visceral reaction it had when she had first arrived in 1945. Now Tom was the one who caused it, though for a completely different reason.

"You really were a little know-it-all, weren't you?" Tom laughed.

"Maybe," Hermione admitted. "But I don't think you mind," she added.

"I probably would have ignored you the whole year if you weren't such a know-it-all."

"I'm touched by how attractive you find my brain," Hermione teased.

"I find other parts of you attractive also," Tom returned, smirking.

"Just eat your dinner," she ordered.

A moment later, she spoke again. "Oh, Tom, I just remembered. You were going to teach me how to become an Animagus. We got so busy at the end of the year that I completely forgot about it."

"After this week, I should have time to help you. You've already read all the books on it and know your form, so the only thing you really need to learn is how to concentrate enough to change completely and not get stuck in the middle."

Hermione shuddered. "That's a very unpleasant experience," she said without thinking.

"You've tried before?"

Hermione really didn't want to tell him about her Polyjuice Potion mishap, but she couldn't think of a way to obfuscate her comment. "No, I accidentally added animal hair to a Polyjuice Potion in second year. It changed me part way into a cat. I was in the hospital wing for over a week, waiting for my ears to get back to normal and for the tail to disappear."

"You had a tail?" Tom asked incredulously.

She nodded, blushing with embarrassment.

"Why were you making Polyjuice Potion in second year anyway?"

"My friends and I wanted to get into the Slytherin common room," she admitted.

"That sounds like such a Slytherin thing to do. I would have thought Gryffindors would just try to blast their way in," he laughed.

"Believe me, my friends considered it," Hermione rolled her eyes. "They probably would have tried if I hadn't suggested Polyjuice Potion first."

"It sounds like you were a troublemaker when you were younger."

"I was not!" Hermione glared. "I just didn't want my friends to get in trouble, so I helped them a little."

"Hermione, you were an accomplice. As an Auror, you know what that means," he smirked.

"Fine," she huffed. "Can I see the rings you've made?" she asked after they had cleaned the dishes.

Tom spread out his work again and handed her one of the rings.

"This is very impressive," she said, feeling a small tingle from the enchantments. "Though mine is prettier."

"Thomson doesn't particularly care if they are aesthetically pleasing."

"I hope I don't have to wear one," Hermione said.

"You shouldn't," Tom replied. "Yours is more powerful anyway."

"How so?"

"These only protect against motion and a few basic hexes and curses. The enchantments on your ring actually mimic a fairly strong shielding spell. More powerful casters could get through it, but most average magic-users probably couldn't."

"Better not let Thomson find out, or he'll order ten rings like mine instead of the ones you're making," Hermione joked.

"I hope that you won't tell him, then."

"Don't worry, I won't. He's already stolen my boyfriend for five days. I don't want you to end up spending all of your time making rings for Thomson."

"Neither do I. Even though he's paying me well, it's already gotten rather boring."

"Well, your meeting with Purgen tomorrow should break the monotony."

"I think I might prefer monotony to Purgen."

* * *

* £1 = G0.2 = $4 in 1945, average US income was around $2500 per year, so average wizard income was probably around 120 Galleons per year, based on the exchange rate of £5 per Galleon, which I'm pegging to the pound. This means it's value fluctuates at the same rate as the pound's value.

AN: Since everything is completely new from now on, I won't be updating as frequently, but I hope that I won't end up taking as long between chapters this years as I did last year, since my schedule is a bit easier. That said, please review, even though this was just a fairly boring filler chapter with way too much dialogue.


	36. Alternate Interpretations

Chapter 36 – Alternate Translations

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, which belongs to J.K. Rowling, nor do I receive any financial benefits from this work.

On Monday morning, Tom walked into the Minister's office at nine o'clock sharp.

"Tom, I hope you have good news for me," Purgen said expectantly from behind his desk of overcompensating size.

"I have information for you, but not particularly good news," Tom replied coolly.

Purgen's eyes narrowed. "Well, let's hear it anyway."

"Grindelwald said that he destroyed the Elder Wand when he realised that he was going to be defeated."

"Do you believe him?" Purgen asked.

"Yes," Tom lied smoothly. "I am excellent at recognizing liars, and unlike the other interrogators, I was able to get him to speak with me by choice. I don't know why he would have bothered making the effort if he was only going to lie about it."

"Damn," the Minister exhaled, slumping slightly in his large leather chair. "Did he tell you anything of use about the other Deathly Hallows?"

"No. He said he knew nothing about the Resurrection Stone or the Cloak of Invisibility, and I am inclined to believe him. If he had had any information, he probably would have enjoyed withholding it from me."

The Minister was silent for a moment. "Grindelwald said nothing else about the Deathly Hallows, other than what you have already told me?" he asked again.

"I have told you everything he said about them," Tom answered.

"Then what took you so long at Nurmengard?"

"He refused to speak with me at first and then asked me questions. He didn't answer any of my questions until Thursday, when he told me that he had broken the Elder Wand."

Purgen scowled, and his mask of superciliousness began to crack. "I want you back to work as soon as possible looking for the other two Hallows."

"I can't guarantee anything," Tom warned him

"I don't care," the Minister growled. "Do whatever you have to do to finish up this business."

"Yes, Minister," Tom replied, holding back a sneer at the man's pretensions. As if Purgen's demands had any effect on him.

Purgen waved a hand at Tom and began looking through the folders on his desk, effectively dismissing him.

Head held high, Tom stalked out of the office. The man was insufferable and obviously not as in control as he wanted to appear.

He made his way down to the Department of Mysteries where he was greeted by Trelawney.

"Welcome back, Tom. How did you find your vacation? Soak up lots of sun?" his supervisor asked innocently.

"Of course, didn't you notice my tan?" he replied blandly. "Purgen sends his greetings," he added.

Trelawney snorted. "You ought not to lie to me, young man. The only thing Purgen would like to send me is a notice of my retirement."

Tom smirked.

"Off to work with you," she shooed. "I'm positively sick of getting letters from Nichols mother every day. The sooner this is over with, the sooner you can start work in one of the other rooms and quit spending all your waking hours in the library."

Tom spent the rest of the day in the library, looking for books that might give him a different interpretation of the runes on the arch or information on the third portal. He was ahead of schedule on the rings and saw no harm in taking a day's break from the mind-numbingly boring work.

As he worked, Tom mulled the last few weeks over in his mind. His plans could fall apart if he did not execute them in precisely the right order. If he got too close to Hermone before he finished with Nichols, she might notice something, but if he distanced himself, she would suspect him. Furthermore, he couldn't begin to actively research the third portal until he was given another assignment, hopefully not related to the Deathly Hallows. Everyone would be suspicious enough when Nichols reappeared.

It was most unfortunate that the Minister and his sister weren't willing to just give up on the missing Unspeakable. Tom was none too eager to jump through the Veil, which, according to all information available, killed people instantly. If they had been wrong to interpret the inscription as describing the Deathly Hallows, all his plans would be less than worthless. Shaking himself from his reverie, he refocused on his research.

Suddenly, an idea that could explain both phrases came to him. He picked up a book he had set aside only a moment before and perused a few pages. His eyes glowed triumphantly and an elated smile appeared on his face. He realised that this might be exactly what he had been looking for.

Hermione walked into Thomson's office, simultaneously anticipating and dreading her orders. She hoped that her next assignment would be worthwhile.

"Auror Granger, here is your training schedule for the week," he said, handing her a sheaf of parchment. "You will be working with various senior Aurors to learn the procedures. I know you already have them memorised," he added, raising his hand when she opened her mouth to remind him of her test score. "But I don't want to lose a suspect because of your inexperience. You are a brilliant dueller, Granger, and obviously have battle experience, but you have never been an Auror before. Your first priority is to uphold the law and apprehend criminals. This may sound simpler than running into battle with wand blazing, but it is not. You are a defender of the people, not merely a foe of dark wizards. The length of this part of your training depends on how long it takes for our procedures to become automatic. If you put your mind to it, you could be taking individual assignments before the end of the summer. This week, you will be working with Auror Danvers. He will brief you on your missions. I will see you next Monday for your next assignment. Danvers is waiting for you in the small training room. Do you have any questions?"

"No, sir," Hermione answered, accepting his explanation. He dismissed her, and she went off to meet her first partner.

Danvers was an older wizard, probably in his mid-fifties. He had greying light brown hair and the wrinkles of a man who had found himself in stressful situations fairly regularly. Overall, he seemed exceedingly composed. Hermione guessed that it would take quite a lot to shake him. Though Hermione didn't think that she needed quite such careful handling, she could easily understand Thomson's decision, especially when she thought of Harry and Ron's potential for hot-headed, impetuous behaviour.

"_And Alphard,"_ she added as an afterthought.

"Auror Granger?" he asked, extending his hand.

"Yes, sir."

"I've been looking forward to meeting you. It's not often we have such promising recruits."

"Thank you, sir."

"Thomson wants me to make sure that you know the correct procedures for the basic situations that Aurors often find themselves in. We have quite a long walk today, so I'll summarize them on the way."

"What are we doing?" Hermione asked curiously.

"Nothing terribly exciting. There's an old witch who lives a few miles outside of a town called Kinlochbervie in County Sutherland on the northern coast. Apparently, she's been using the Imperius Curse on some of the local Muggles for years. We were lucky that a wizarding family moved into the village, or we might never have found out. We'll Floo to their cottage, then walk the rest of the way. I don't anticipate much trouble. Her duelling days are long over. But you might want to change into something a little warmer and sturdier. The terrain is very rough, and we might not have a clear path," Danvers warned.

Hermione looked down at her shoes. There was no way they would survive if she ended up hiking through mud or over rocks. She concentrated for a second and waved her wand. They blurred into heavy-soled leather boots.

"I do need to grab a cloak," she told Danvers, who had watched her alteration without comment.

"You can get one from the commissary. Since you're on duty, you are supposed to wear an Auror cloak, though you can add enchantments to it later," he instructed. "It's just down the hall, second door on the left. Auror Marin will get you what you need."

Within half an hour, they were stepping out into the clammy breeze of Kinlochbervie.

"Where are we supposed to go now?" Danvers asked, testing Hermione.

"Mrs. Morrison said that if we climb to the top of the hill overlooking the harbour, we should be able to see the clearing due south. But we need to Disillusion ourselves or put a glamour on our clothes."

"Which would be better?"

"This village is so small that it would seem odd for two strangers to show up out of nowhere. I think a Disillusionment Charm would be best," Hermione decided.

"Good thinking," Danvers said approvingly. "Now let's go make our arrest."

Since it was her first arrest, Hermione only watched most of the process. Afterwards, Danvers asked her questions about it and reassured her that later in the week, she would have the opportunity to take the lead on assignments.

He was true to his word. With the exception of Wednesday morning, which was spent training with Alphard and Dawlish, and Friday, Hermione was almost constantly with Danvers on missions.

Only the arrest of a suspected poisoner caused them difficulty. The unstable man had attempted to throw a flask of a variant version of Draught of the Living Death at Hermione. If it had broken and soaked into Hermione's skin, it could have put her to sleep permanently. However, after their last assignment on Thursday, Danvers told Hermione that she had been one of the most apt rookies that he had worked with.

"You've done very well. You have a bright future ahead of you in the department," he complimented her as they placed some of their things in the lockers provided to Aurors for special equipment.

"Thanks," Hermione returned.

"I probably won't work with you again. I spend most of my time on training exercises, and I'll be collecting my pension before too long," he added with a smile. "But I'll see you around. If you have any questions, don't hesitate to Owl."

After his leave-taking, Hermione went down to the Department of Mysteries, hoping to catch Tom before he went home. She had barely seen him the entire week, with her newly filled schedule and his special project for Thomson. Only ten minutes later, Tom walked out of the library, focused on a dusty manuscript. He noticed her about two steps later and smiled at her, appearing pleased at her unexpected visit.

"I finished early today," she explained. "I figured I would come meet you and we could go out to dinner somewhere."

"All right," Tom agreed.

"Did you finish the rings?" she asked as they walked to the Ministry Floos.

"Yes, I finished them yesterday. I'll get paid for them tomorrow, along with my normal salary."

"So Thomson isn't having you make any more?"

"Not yet," Tom answered. "And I hope he doesn't for quite a while. It was about the most boring thing I've ever had the misfortune of doing."

"What are you working on now?"

"I'll tell you more later," Tom promised, stepping up to the Floo. "Where do you want to eat?"

"The Leaky Cauldron is fine with me," Hermione shrugged. "I just want something to eat."

They ate a simple meal at the pub and Floo-ed to Hermione's apartment. Hermione wanted to know what he had been doing since he finished his project and Tom was interested in her training experiences.

Hermione regaled him for half an hour with the story of the witch up in Kinlochbervie and how she had tried to Disillusion herself, only to accidentally change her skin bright green before being stunned and her single training exercise with Alphard and Dawlish.

"Are your partners still being useful?" Tom asked nonchalantly, examining his fingernails.

"They are very talented, especially Black. But when you consider his family, he probably has more experience with dark wizards then most.

Tom's hands stiffened for an instant, but Hermione didn't notice. However, she did notice hear his quick intake of breath.

"Tom," she said gently, though a bit of exasperation crept into her voice, "I don't plan on dating Alphard Black. He's a friend, and I enjoy talking with him, but that's all. I don't understand why I have to keep repeating myself."

Tom cast about for something to say that would alleviate her annoyance. "I have to admit, that I still have difficulty knowing what to expect," he said haltingly. "You are the only person I have ever had, or even wanted to have, a long-term relationship with."

Hermione's eyes softened. "You don't have to worry about me leaving you. Unless you decided to go on a rampage through Diagon Alley," she joked hesitantly

Tom understood instantly what her feeble attempt at lightening the conversation meant, though Hermione herself did not: she was putting his possible future behind them. She viewed it as such an unlikely possibility that she was comfortable making jokes about it.

Tom smiled. "I don't plan on it."

Hermione smiled back, not feeling a need to say anything, and took one of his hands in hers.

After a moment, Tom spoke again, changing the subject. "You asked me earlier about my current project. I'm still working on the arch, but I almost think it's only an excuse for me to continue researching the Deathly Hallows."

"How much longer do you think you'll have to keep looking for them?" Hermione asked.

"Until Purgen decides the whole thing is hopeless," Tom shrugged. "It could be anywhere from a few weeks to a few years."

"I think I might give up my day per week working with you if that's all we're going to be doing." Hermione wrinkled her nose.

"And leave me in that library by myself?" Tom asked, faux indignation in his voice.

"Exactly."

"But you just said you weren't going to leave me," Tom teased.

"I didn't say anything about leaving your job," Hermione retorted, a glint in her eye which moments later induced Tom's attempt to kiss her quite soundly into submission.

* * *

In the second week of July, a furore occurred in the room containing the Veil.

An Unspeakable responsible for night patrols had been making his single inspection of the room at five in the morning. Just as he opened the door and to leave the room, he heard a thud and something take a deep, rasping breath.

He spun around, wand at hand. A ragged man was sprawled on the floor in front of the Veil. The Unspeakable thought that he looked worse than a prisoner from one of those Muggle camps they found during the mirror.

But his thoughts were interrupted by the trespasser.

"Williams, help me," the wraith-like man asked, stretching out a skeletal hand toward his former colleague, before collapsing back onto the floor.

Williams shot off red sparks with his wand as he hurried to care for the returned Unspeakable.

"Nichols?" he asked, rolling the man onto his back. "Nichols? Can you hear me?" Feeling no pulse, he aimed his wand at Nichols' chest and began to pulse jolts of magic into his heart, hoping to keep him alive until the mediwizards arrived.

Less than an hour later, owls were screeching outside of the windows of Minister Purgen, Tom, Hermione and numerous other Ministry officials and employees.

* * *

At 6:12 A.M. Minister Purgen announced to a room of shocked people that Unpeakable Nichols had returned.

"How is this possible?" Hollis asked.

"I do not know," Purgen replied, casting his gaze at Tom. "I was hoping one of you might have an idea."

"No one was in the Department of Mysteries except me," Williams assured the Minister. "I was in the room when Nichols came through the Veil."

"Did you see him come through?" Trelawney asked, cutting the Minister off.

"No, but I saw the whole room immediately before and after."

"You must have missed something," Purgen growled. "I want to know who was there and how they got Nichols out of that damned Veil. Check the wards, the reception area, everything that might give us an idea of who was there. And as soon as Nichols wakes up, I want him questioned."

"I'll send Hollis over to St. Mungo's," Trelawney replied.

"No, I will speak with Nichols," Purgen changed his mind.

"Minister, Nichols is still under my supervision," Trelawney protested vehemently. "He must report to me first. Anything involving Department of Mysteries personnel falls under the discretionary powers of the department head. There is no legal precedent for this."

"Then I will create the precedent. Furthermore, if someone has gotten access to the Department of Mysteries, I am most definitely able to use my own discretion to restore the Ministry to a secure state. I will speak with Nichols first. Then you may get his report," Purgen sneered, an animalistic gleam in his eyes.

"Minister, perhaps there really was no one else there," Hermione commented from her place beside Tom.

"That's impossible, as you well know, Miss Granger."

"She is properly addressed as Auror Granger, Minister," Thomson replied harshly.

"And there is a chance that she is correct," Tom added. "I need to consult with O'Moriarty, but I think that there might be an alternate translation for the runes on the arch. It would explain what Williams observed."

Purgen looked at Tom sharply, obviously suspecting something, but when Tom met and returned his stare, he turned away and addressed the whole room.

"Unspeakable Trelawney, Head Auror Thomson, you will be present for my questioning of Nichols. Unspeakable Riddle, Auror Granger, you are to meet with O'Moriarty as soon as possible to research Unspeakable Riddle's conveniently timed epiphany. I will expect a report on your findings before you leave today." With that, he stood and stalked from the room, followed by two very irritated and insulted department heads.

Tom sat after they had left, pleased with the events of the morning. He couldn't think of anything that could point to his involvement, but until the whole investigation was finished, he couldn't afford to let down his guard.

"We had better Owl O'Moriarty, hadn't we?" he said to Hermione, taking her hand and guiding her smoothly from her chair.

As they walked toward the owlery, Hermione asked him the question that had been intriguing her for the past several minutes.

"Do you really think that the Deathly Hallows weren't necessary to bring Nichols back?" she asked once no one was within earshot.

"I'm not sure," Tom admitted, "but O'Moriarty should to be able to tell whether my idea is possible."

"What exactly is your idea?"

"It's pretty complicated, so I would rather explain it only once and with the help of my notes. Which I need to stop back at my flat to pick up."

"Then I might go back to grab something for breakfast," Hermione decided.

Tom dashed off a quick note to the librarian and tied it to an owl's leg. The couple headed back toward the main lobby to Floo to their flats.

"I'll meet you in the Department of Mysteries in forty minutes," he told Hermione.

"All right." Hermione kissed him goodbye and disappeared in the green flames.

AN: Happy Thanksgiving, to my readers in the United States! To everyone else, Happy Reviewing Day! Just a small hint, I'm not begging. Since I'm on break, I might be able to get another chapter up before next Monday, but no guarantees. I have papers to write! What do you all think Nichols is going to say?


	37. Facing Inevitable Fate

Chapter 37 – Facing Inevitable Fate

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or receive financial rewards from this work.

Early in the morning, a man walked through the Ministry, unnoticed by the patrols who stood bleary-eyed at doorways and trudged automatically up and down the hallways. He carried with him a bundle wrapped carefully in dark fabric. As he had expected, no one realised that an interloper was present, even when the doors to the Department of Mysteries creaked open, apparently of their own volition.

He made his way to the room that held the Veil, barely noticing the disorienting movement of the entryway. He untied the wrapping of the packet and vanished it before pulling the cloak it had contained over his head. Stepping up onto the dais, he gazed into the portal. He felt a moment's hesitation. There was a very small possibility that he had been mistaken about the validity of the Hallows he had found or the rune translation. However, his usual self-confidence returned to him shortly. He drew his wand under the cloak and stepped through the arch.

It was as if he were stepping through a curtain of liquid ice. He shuddered as the feeling flowed through him. Then it was over. His eyes adjusted to the dim light and went wide at what he saw. It was a room very similar to the Entry Room in the Department of Mysteries. There were several doors lining the walls, all unlabeled except for the one directly across from him, on which "The Lost" was written in black, peeling paint. He turned to look behind him. Instead of an arch, he found a heavy black door. He reached out and turned the handle. Somewhat relieved that it was unlocked, he returned his attention to the other doors.

While Tom admittedly felt slight curiosity, his innate sense of self-preservation prevented him from even entertaining the idea of attempting to open one of them. He walked carefully across the room and pulled the door open. He was greeted by a rush of stale air and distant wailing.

The room was misty. Tom couldn't see the walls or floor, only the foot or so of clear air in front of him. He silently cast _Lumos_, but the spell did nothing. Guessing that something prevented the use of magic, he pulled the Gaunt ring off his finger and looked down at it. As he focused, it began to glow. The mist rolled back and he was able to see the room more clearly, including the floor. Other than the small patch of stone on which he currently stood, it was covered by corpses, nearly all dry skeletons, and scraps of clothing. The skeletons looked undisturbed, like they had fallen asleep and failed to awaken, though there was some disturbance where it appeared as though someone had waded through them. The light spread from the ring. When he was able to see farther, Tom noticed a body that seemed less desiccated. He walked the ten meters across the bones to it. Bending down, he saw a patch declaring the man to be Unspeakable Nichols. He pressed his fingers to the man's neck. Just as he was about to remove them several seconds later, he felt a weak pulse. He waited. Twenty seconds later, he felt another pulse. He tried levitating him, but once again, his spells didn't work. Sighing exasperatedly, he lifted the man. As he stood, his cloak caught on a femur and slid partway off. A rumble sounded through the room. The mist began to roil and a peculiar odour spread through the air.

"_It smells almost like...asphodel?_" Tom questioned. Recalling the main use of asphodel, Tom hurriedly pulled the cloak back over him, threw Nichols over his shoulder, and began running back toward the door. The light from the Resurrection Stone began to fade. He steps slowed as he neared the door. He felt his eyes begin to droop. As blackness threatened to overwhelm him, his hand found the door. He pulled it open and collapsed into the other room, kicking the door shut behind him. After a few minutes, his mind cleared. He stood up and inspected the man he had rescued. He was extremely thin. Tom figured that the mist must slow down metabolism. Otherwise, Nichols would have been long dead.

Tom decided to wait a little longer before trying to return to the Department of Mysteries. He didn't want to risk going back before he was fully in control of his faculties. Unfortunately he waited a little too long.

Nichols coughed and opened clouded eyes.

"Who's there? Where am I?" he rasped, looking up at Tom.

"_Damn!_" Tom thought. His cloak had slipped off again when he threw himself through the door.

Nichols spoke again. "Who are you?"

Tom cloaked himself hurriedly. He could only hope that he would have time to Obliviate the man when, or if, they got back through the Veil.

Tom grabbed Nichols' bony arm, pulled open the door that led back to the Department of Mysteries, and braced himself as he stepped through. This time, the sensation was one of heat rather than ice.

Tom almost groaned aloud when he saw an Unspeakable in the room. He cast _Obliviate _on Nichols silently, blocking out his worries. He then used _Legilimens_ to make sure that no trace of anything that had happened in the rooms through the Veil remained in Nichols' memory. He dropped Nichols roughly on the floor and followed the Unspeakable to the door. The patrol opened the door the same instant that Nichols called out.

"Williams, help me." Using Williams' distraction to his advantage, Tom slid through the open door and made his way back through the Ministry. Less than an hour later, an owl was outside his window with a note ordering him to report to the Minister of Magic immediately.

* * *

"Well, Tom, I must admit that I didn't even consider some of these translations," O'Moriarty said as he looked over Tom's notes on the rune translation from the Veil. "Just to make sure I have this right, you translated it as, '_Only one whose eye is sheltered from death may part the Veil and enter death's realm as an honoured guest. Only one whose face see's death may part the Veil and find oneself lost.'* _I can see why you switched the cases of 'eye' and 'death.' It fits with some of the dialects from farther north. But this translation makes the individual parts exclusive. If I am reading this correctly, someone who has never seen anyone die can go through as "an honoured guest," but anyone else is lost inside. I can support this translation, but we had better find out if Nichols has seen anyone die. I personally hope he hasn't. While I've enjoyed this project, I'm more than ready to get back to my own work."

"I know what you mean," Tom commiserated, thrilled with the librarian's easy acquiescence.

"Tom, you should Owl the Minister, since you have had the most contact with him and this translation is your idea," Hermione suggested.

By noon, Tom was standing in Nichols' private room at St. Mungo's with Minister Purgen.

"What did O'Moriarty say?" Purgen asked without delay.

"He said that he could agree with the translation, but it raises a very important question."

"Well, what is it?" Purgen asked impatiently.

"Has Nichols ever seen someone die?" Tom asked. Purgen looked irritated, not knowing why Tom would ask such a seemingly unrelated question.

"If he has, then he shouldn't have been able to return. But if he hasn't, it makes at least some kind of sense."

Purgen called for a mediwizard. "I need you to wake up Unspeakable Nichols," he demanded.

"But, Minister, he is extremely weak. You should at least wait until tomorrow," the mediwizard protested.

"This is important Ministry business. Wake him up now."

"Very well." The mediwizard placed his wand to Nichols' temple and murmured a quick spell. Nichols began to groan immediately and attempted to sit up.

"Unspeakable Nichols," Purgen began. "Can you hear me?"

"Yes, Minister," Nichols whispered.

"I need you to answer a question for me."

The Unspeakable nodded weakly.

"Have you ever seen a human being die?" Purgen asked.

Tom tensed with anticipation. If Nichols answered in the negative, he wouldn't have to worry about that stupid arch, Purgen, or the Deathly Hallows again, hopefully.

"No," Nichols rasped, falling back into his pillow.

"Thank you, that is all," Purgen said.

Tom didn't know whether the Minister was pleased. While he should be, since his second cousin once-removed was alive, this also meant that there was no longer any reason to believe that the two remaining Deathly Hallows were within reach. But Tom did know that fate had just handed him an extraordinary gift. He would now be free to search for the third portal with no worry of interference or suspicion, as long as he did nothing abnormally stupid.

"Riddle, I would like to speak with you in my office at two o'clock," the Minister ordered.

"I will be there, Minister," Tom replied. Purgen strode out of the room, robes flaring about him, mimicking his volatile mood. Tom stood a moment longer. He felt eyes on him and looked down to the malnourished Unspeakable.

"Who are you?" Nichols asked curiously.

"Tom Riddle, Unspeakable. I was assigned to work on the Veil after you went missing," Tom answered. If he didn't tell Nichols about his work, someone else would, causing him to look dodgy, the last thing he needed.

"Did you help rescue me?"

"No, I actually completely mistranslated the inscriptions and only figured it out this morning after you came back," Tom lied apologetically.

"Oh." The sick man stared at the ceiling silently for a few minutes. Gradually, his eyes slipped shut and his breathing evened out. Tom strolled out of the room, extremely pleased with the reaffirmation of a successful Obliviation.

At two o'clock, Tom entered Purgen's office.

"Mr. Riddle," the Minister began, "with Nichols safe return, there is no longer any need for you to continue searching for the Deathly Hallows, especially if Grindelwald was telling the truth about the destruction of the Elder Wand. Head Unspeakable Trelawney will be responsible for your future assignments, though I doubt she will be giving you any important responsibilities after the difficulties you have caused with your mistranslation." The Minister had a spiteful look on his face. He was definitely irritated that he had lost out on the chance to gain control of the Deathly Hallows and Tom was the best candidate upon whom for him to relieve his pique.

Tom now had other concerns outside of the Department of Mysteries, so he was not overly disappointed with the Minister's threat, but he conjured up an expression of dissatisfaction to appease him.

"I understand, Minister."

"Good. Report to Trelawney." Purgen waved his hand at Tom dismissively and began looking through a stack of press releases on his desk.

Tom was met by Trelawney immediately upon entering the Department of Mysteries.

"Good work today, Tom," she complimented him. "If you hadn't figured out that translation, Purgen would have had the whole department out searching for the Deathly Hallows," she rolled her eyes.

Tom breathed a completely sincere sigh of relief.

"You have a few choice for your new assignment," Trelawney continued. "The Thought Chamber has been understaffed for a few months, but I wouldn't recommend it to you."

"Why not?" Tom asked.

"In my opinion, it's by far the least interesting of all the department projects. The Unspeakables there spend most of their time casting Obliviations on brains, then attempting to break or alter them. I would personally recommend that you try the Time Chamber. The Department just released a new invention, the Time-Turner, but there is still some tweaking left to do. They are also researching possible mechanisms for time travel over longer distances. With your knowledge of ancient runes and enchanting, you could help a great deal."

"What are the other possibilities?"

"You could keep working on the Veil if you wanted," Trelawney frowned. "There is also the Space Chamber and the Hall of Prophecy, but you would spend most of your time there filing and retrieving prophecies. Not much research to be done."

"You only mentioned five rooms," Tom noticed. "There are six doors in the vestibule."

"We don't really do anything with the sixth chamber. A few decades ago when I first started here, an old Unspeakable with more than a few eccentricities did some experiments in there. He put up the wards on the door. He was Avada-ed with his own wand about fifteen years ago. No one has been able to get in since." she shrugged. "Give it a try if you want."

"Can I have a while to consider my options?" Tom asked.

"I want an answer by the end of the week," Trelawney admonished him. "But you can have the rest of the day off," she added, looking to all the world like an grandmother doting upon her favourite grandson.

"Thanks," Tom said with a charming smile.

Hermione had been on pins and needles the whole day, waiting to find out from Tom what exactly had happened. Thomson had given her desk duty, telling her that Purgen had wasted too much of the day for her to go out on an assignment and directing her to a stack of reports over three feet high that needed to be filed. She had made only a nominal fuss: filing only took up a small part of her consciousness, giving her the time to think about other things, like the Veil, the Deathly Hallows, and most enjoyably, Tom.

When she finished work at five, Tom was waiting for her in the Atrium.

Hermione invited him over for dinner. The two of them combined their culinary ability and managed to produce a more than decent repast for themselves.

"New table?" Tom asked when they sat down.

"Yes." Hermione could restrain herself no longer. "What exactly happened today?" she blurted out.

"I was wondering how long it would take you to ask," Tom smirked as he twirled the linguini around his fork.

"Just answer the question," she prodded with fond exasperation.

"Well, we were both called in early this morning after an Unspeakable found Nichols in the room with the arch. You were with me until I met with the Minister and Nichols at St. Mungo's. I told Purgen about our theory and he asked Nichols whether he had ever seen anyone die. Nichols said no, so I think we might finally be done with the whole business," he finished, sincere relief in his voice.

"Do you know what you are going to do now?" Hermione asked.

"Trelawney is allowing me to choose my next assignment. I can do almost anything I want in the department. Do you know if you'll still be able to work with me, now that we're finished with the Veil?"

Hermione shrugged. "I was doing paperwork most of the day, so I didn't get a chance to ask Thomson. I'll probably meet with him tomorrow, so I can ask then."

"What do you want to do?" Tom asked, hoping that she would decide to focus on her training. She had helped him a great deal with the arch, but he would rather not have her privy to everything he was working on in the Department of Mysteries.

She was silent for a moment. "I enjoyed working with you, especially since I didn't get along with Thomson at first. But I think I would rather put all my time into my job. The length of training depends how hard I work and I want to finish as soon as possible. If I had wanted to spend all my time in the library, I would have gotten a job in the Department of Mysteries," she finally answered, somewhat apologetically.

"I don't mind if you prefer to focus on your Auror training," Tom reassured her. "We see each other nearly every day anyway."

After the explanation of the day's events and discussion about work were finished, they contentedly finished their meal.

Tom helped Hermione clear the table and clean up the kitchen and the couple settled in on the couch. Tom put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close to him, an action that had happened so many times as to be nearly reflexive.

Hermione leaned her head on his shoulder. "I love you," she murmured, closing her eyes.

"I love you, too," Tom replied, kissing the top of her head, causing her to burrow closer to him. Hermione's breathing evened out a few minutes later and her body relaxed against him in sleep.

Tom closed his eyes as he was encompassed by a feeling of pure contentment. "_Do I actually love her?_" Tom asked himself in shock, eyes flying wide open. "_No, I can't. It's not possible," _he denied. "_I admire her and don't want to risk my enemies using her intelligence like they did in the future_," he tried to convince himself. But for the first time, his usual arguments didn't wholly convince him. Conflicted, he moved to disentangle himself from Hermione. Feeling him move away, Hermione roused enough to put her arms around him.

"Will you stay here tonight?" she asked sleepily. "Just to sleep," she added with a slight blush. "Tomorrow's Saturday," she reminded him when he opened his mouth to begin his attempt at an excuse.

"All right," he agreed. Hermione smiled drowsily and replaced her head against his chest.

Realising that he wouldn't be going anywhere in the short term, Tom allowed himself to drift off to sleep next to Hermione.

He woke up three hours later, still on the couch entwined with Hermione. Feeling slight stiffness from his awkward position on the couch, he removed himself from Hermione's arms and stood up, planning to leave. Hermione roused at his movement. She watched silently as he walked over to pick up his bag.

"Tom," she called softly.

"I was going to go back to my flat," he explained. "It's late."

"You can stay here," Hermione said, blushing at her offer. She stood up from the couch and stretched.

"Are you sure?" Tom asked. Simultaneous feelings of warmth and trepidation nearly overwhelmed him. He wanted to stay, but at the same time, he felt that if he didn't run, he might never escape.

Hermione nodded, stepping toward him. "I can transfigure some clothes for you, and I think I have an extra toothbrush."

"I'll transfigure my clothes while you use the bathroom," Tom finally agreed.

Half an hour later, Tom was lying in bed with his sleeping girlfriend wrapped around him. As sleep took him, he thought that he might never want to leave.

* Original Translation: _Only one who hides from death's all-seeing eye may part the veil and enter death's realm as an honoured guest. Only one who looks into death's face may part the veil and find the one lost._

AN: I was looking around on and discovered that you can make the length requirement as high as you want in the address. I found that the longest HP fanfic is over 887,000 words long! I'm not sure I've written that many words in my entire life!

We are now over the hump, so to speak, of this fic. We have one portal and a good bit of relationship-building left, but I can't see it going over 200,000 words, a very respectable length, in my opinion. I'm hoping to have this complete by the end of the academic year.


	38. New Roles

Chapter 38 – New Roles

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor do I reap financial gains from this work.

Hermione woke up to the smell of coffee. She stretched, thinking that she hadn't slept so well in months. She opened her eyes and looked around, taking in the sight of the second indentation in the pillow and recalling the previous day and night. She glanced over at the clock. It was already ten o'clock. She smiled somewhat sappily before getting out of bed and pulling on her robe.

"I thought you didn't know how to cook," she said good-naturedly when she saw Tom standing over the stove, a pot of coffee already sitting on the counter.

"I am capable of frying eggs," he assured her, his intent expression fading for a second when he looked up at her.

Hermione couldn't remember ever having a boyfriend cook her breakfast. Ron hadn't, though he had never stayed over either. But Hermione was sure that even if he had, he would never have bothered to do something so thoughtful.

"I'll help," she offered, walking over to the cupboard she had cast Freezing Charms on and pulling out sausage.

Half an hour later as they sat down for breakfast, Hermione was struck by just how normal it all seemed. Going to sleep with him next to her, waking up with his heat still engulfing her, and eating breakfast across from him before going about the business of the day felt _right_, for lack of a better word. Hermione was too logical to give credence to the idea that everything would be perfect when, or if, they lived together, but she had to admit that it felt like it might be.

Tom was susceptible to the same awareness. While they had eaten breakfast together a majority of the days since they began working at the Ministry, it was something completely different to wake up to someone in a place that felt like home. The closest Tom had ever had to a home was Hogwarts. He had to admit that Hermione's ability to so mould his feelings bothered him more than a little. However, he was at a loss as to what he ought to do about it. He couldn't sanction cutting himself off from her. "_It would be like trying to excise a cancer that had attacked his brain, heart, and testicles simultaneously_," Tom thought crudely. They were all parts of his anatomy that he was not eager to have someone hacking around, even with a metaphorical knife.

Breakfast with Hermione that Saturday morning caused Tom to admit something he had been trying to avoid recognising for weeks: he was stuck with Hermione. Worse, he was stuck not unhappily with Hermione. There was nothing he could or would do about it. He was like a man addicted to opium, all too happy to continue on toward his ultimate destruction as long as he kept getting more.

But Tom, though he may have accepted his situation with Hermione, was still not willing to accept that his long dreamt of plans might need to be curtailed. Loving Hermione, which he still was not comfortable admitting to himself, was not equivalent to becoming a Hufflepuff. If anything, it required him to cultivate even greater cunning. Tom was sure that he had not imagined the relief on Hermione's face when he said that he was probably finished with the Deathly Hallows and portal. She was still afraid of his ambition and lust for power. Since tossing her aside was an unpalatable solution, Tom would have to work around her. And what better way to know and allay her deepest suspicions and fears than to be with her almost constantly?

"Did you have plans for today?" Tom asked while they Scourgio-ed the dishes and put them away.

"No, I thought I might catch up on some paperwork and cleaning here," Hermione said. "You can stay if you want," she added hopefully.

"I have a few errands," Tom declined. "But I want to take you out to dinner tonight," he said.

"Where?"

"It's a secret," Tom said, smirking at her slightly rebellious expression. "Dress nicely. I'll be wearing dress robes. I'll pick you up at seven." As Hermione opened her mouth to protest, Tom took the plate from her hand, set it next to the sink and kissed her soundly. A few minutes later, Tom pulled back and smiled down into her dazed eyes. "Good bye," he said, pecking her on the lips once more before Apparating away to his own flat.

Tom actually only had one thing to do and he had only decided to do it minutes earlier. He picked up his wages from the past week and walked down the stairs to Diagon Alley. An hour later, his purchase was finalised and he returned to his flat to research the spells he needed for his plan. It wouldn't do to make a mistake on such an auspicious occasion.

Hermione stood in the middle of the room, thoroughly baffled by Tom's behaviour. He hadn't seemed secretive, but neither had he told her what he was doing. She gathered that it was a surprise of some sort, but it had seemed so spur of the moment. She sighed, then smiled and went over to her closet to try to find something to wear.

At seven, Tom knocked on Hermione's door. He was wearing his dress robes as he had told Hermione, but had worn a black bow tie instead or a cravat. Hermione opened the door, purse and wrap in hand. Tom had to force himself to look at her face. The cut of the deep crimson dress set off her shape to perfection. Though not deep, the wide V-neck of her dress left her shoulders mostly bare. The dress fit tightly almost to her hips, where the skirt flared out until it ended just below her knees.

"You look beautiful," he said finally, pulling his eyes back to her own laughing ones.

"You look very handsome, too," she grinned, reaching out to straighten his tie. "Where are we going?" she asked.

"It's still a surprise," Tom rejoined. "I'm going to Apparate us now," he warned her, wrapping his arms around her waist. She quickly grasped his shoulders when she felt the sensation begin. They appeared inside the lobby of an elegant restaurant.

"Mr. Tom Riddle?" the maître d' asked, smiling politely.

"I am Thomas Riddle," Tom answered.

"This way, please." He led them to a table in a secluded corner of the restaurant. It was lit by a softly glowing will 'o the wisp that floated above the pristine linen tablecloth.

Tom had had to lay out five Galleons to get a reservation on such short notice and another five to get a private table. He was thoroughly pleased by the outcome of his bribery. He pulled out Hermione's chair, then seated himself across from her. Their waiter soon arrived and gave them menus and the wine list, informing them that they served only the best French vintages and making his recommendations.

The food was exquisite. Hermione thought that she had possibly never had better French food, even when she had dined at fine restaurants in Paris with her parents during summer break.

Tom was less poetic in his thoughts. He enjoyed the food but was inordinately nervous.

Finally, the waiter took away their dishes. Tom reached across the table and clasped her hand. He nervously cleared his throat and began to speak.

"Hermione, I've known you less than a year, yet you have come to mean more to me than anyone else. I never expected to feel this way about you, let alone come to love you. At first, you were just a challenge, someone who knew unexpected things about my life. Then you became someone whom I could call a friend. You already knew the worst of me and were still willing to give me a chance. Now, you are my girlfriend, something I never planned to bother with," he said self-deprecatingly. He locked eyes with her as he stood from his chair.

"I no longer want you to be my girlfriend," he continued, stepping toward her. Hermione gasped, confused for a moment. Her eyes filled with tears, first of horror, but then of anticipation.

He knelt. "When I think of you, you are no longer just my girlfriend. I dream of waking to your face every morning for the rest of my life, of coming home to you every evening. I cannot even imagine my life without you in it. Hermione Jane Granger, if you were no longer my girlfriend, I would be the happiest man on earth.

"Will you marry me?"

Hermione sat motionlessly for a second. Tom felt anxiety creep upon him, but it was soon relieved.

"Yes!" Hermione catapulted from her chair, sinking to her knees in from of him and wrapping her arms around his neck, squeezing him tightly before moving back and kissing him in front of the waiter, who had just come to inquire about their dessert preferences. The waiter wisely decided to come back later and to perhaps bring a bottle of champagne. Based on the money Mr. Riddle had spent to get the reservation, he hoped for an accordingly large tip.

Tom raised Hermione from her knees and helped her back into her chair. He pulled out his wand and a small velvet bag, took her right hand, and removed the ring from it, setting it on the table. He upended the bag, causing a marquis-cut diamond to fall onto the table. With a few murmured spells, the ring morphed, setting the diamond in the centre, bordered by three alexandrite stones on either side, with the knot design coalescing to form a solid band beyond the alexandrite. Tom grasped her left hand and slid the ring onto her fourth finger. Hermione beamed across the table at him.

"It's beautiful," Hermione said.

The waiter returned, champagne in hand. "Compliments of the management, sir," he said.

"Thank you," Tom replied. "We will take it with us, please. I would like to settle the bill now."

"Very well, sir." The waiter returned with their bill moments later. Tom left a generous tip, grateful for the waiter's discretion.*

Tom collected their champagne and escorted Hermione out of the restaurant. The sun had set; only the faintest glimmer of light was visible above the horizon.

They walked along the lane in companionable silence, arms entwined. Surprisingly, it was Hermione who broke the quiet.

"Tom, do you have any idea when you would like to get married?" she asked slightly nervously.

"I hadn't really thought beyond the proposal," he admitted with a smile. "It seemed premature to start asking you about wedding dates. Do you have a preference?"

"Maybe September? I don't want to wait too long. We both know how uncertain life can be, and neither of us have particularly safe jobs," she reasoned.

"September, a year since we first met," Tom reminisced. "I would never have guessed that I would end up engaged to that irritating girl who appeared in the library." Hermione blushed. "September is fine with me," he agreed. "If you think you can organize everything," he added.

"I don't want a wedding like Louisa's," Hermione reassured him. "I would like a small wedding, just us and a few of our closest friends. But we don't have to decide everything tonight," she laughed.

"May I escort you home, milady?" Tom asked gallantly.

"You may, kind sir," Hermione replied archly, placing her hand through the crook of his elbow. Tom Apparated them away to his flat.

"Would you like some champagne?" he asked, conjuring two crystal glasses.

"Only a little," Hermione said. "You remember how well I hold my alcohol."

Lacking a comfortable couch, the couple ended up sharing the chair Tom had modelled after the one in the Heads' common room. Hermione was perched sideways across his lap, one arm wrapped around his neck, the other holding her glass. When their glasses were empty, Tom Vanished them and took advantage of the lack of breakable objects in the vicinity, kissing Hermione passionately. When they pulled apart, Hermione's position had shifted. She found herself straddling Tom's legs, both arms wrapped tightly around his neck, with the fingers of one hand curled through his hair. To prevent her from slipping off the chair, Tom had put his arms around her waist, but one hand had slipped somewhat lower to rest on her hip, bunching her skirt.

Hermione flushed when she realised the alignment of their bodies. To Tom's disappointment, she slowly disentangled herself and stood from the chair, attempting to put her clothes and hair to right.

"I had better go home," she said regretfully.

"You can stay here," Tom offered, though with admittedly selfish motives. "I find myself reluctant to let you leave so soon.

"I'm not sure that's a good idea," Hermione said doubtfully.

"Just to sleep," Tom cajoled. "You can trust me. I won't do anything you disapprove of."

"That's the problem," she laughed. "I'm not sure I'll be able to maintain my disapproval."

"Then I will protect your virtue for you," he promised, smiling.

"Fine, but I need to go home to get a few things," Hermione finally agreed.

For the second night in a row, Tom fell asleep with Hermione in his arms, though this time, she was there as his fiancée. He looked forward to the time when she would truly be his.

The next day, Hermione Owled Louisa and Minerva, excited to share her news with them. Tom was somewhat displeased when she left him right after breakfast, but after a rather intense good-bye kiss, he resigned himself to losing her company for the day.

Hermione met her friends at a cafe on Diagon Alley at eleven o'clock. They were both curious as to what prompted her to want to see them on such short notice. Hermione folded her hands on top of the table and waited. Not surprisingly, Louisa noticed first.

"Hermione, what's that on your finger?" she squealed, grabbing Hermione's hand for a closer look.

"Last I checked, it was a ring," Hermione retorted good-humouredly.

"You're engaged?" Minerva asked, utterly shocked.

"Yes! He just asked me last night!" Hermione replied effervescently.

"Have you decided when you're getting married or what kind of bonding ceremony you want to have?" Louisa asked.

"Sometime in September. There are different kinds of ceremonies?" she asked.

"I forgot that you're Muggleborn," Louisa apologised. "There are at least five different types of bonding ceremonies."

"They all have different strength," Minerva explained. "The weakest one is just like a Muggle ceremony. You sign a piece of paper in front of witnesses and you're married. Some of the older, rarer bonds are extremely complicated forms of magic. They can prevent adultery, divorce, remarriage, and even survival after the death of one's spouse. Barely anyone uses that one anymore, though," she added. "I doubt even the Malfoys use it."

"Maybe I should find a book on this," Hermione commented nervously.

"That would probably be a good idea," Louisa agreed. "I used the same bonding ceremony as my parents, but since you don't have any family traditions, you should choose exactly what you want." Minerva nodded in agreement.

They chatted a quarter of an hour longer, Louisa expounding on the wonders of married life. Minerva was uncharacteristically quiet. After Louisa left, Hermione turned to her.

"Are you alright?" she asked Minerva.

"I'm fine," she sighed. "No, I'm not fine. Philippe and I had a rather dreadful quarrel on Friday."

"About what?"

"Well, I was trying to tell him to stop kissing me in public."

Hermione's face became apprehensive. "What did you say exactly?"

"I think I might have said that I didn't appreciate him acting like a cave man in public and making me look ridiculous."

"That can't have made him feel very good."

"Well, it doesn't make me _feel good_ to have all my colleagues laughing at me, either!" Minerva responded heatedly.

"What did he say?"

"He apologized for acting like a boyfriend instead of a study partner. The nerve of him! Tom doesn't act like that with you!"

"Well, he did at the club," Hermione reminded her friend.

Minerva ignored her. "Then he said that if I didn't want him around, he had plenty of offers back in France. He actually threatened to leave!"

"Look at it from his perspective," Hermione said, attempting to calm the angry witch.

"What do you mean?"

"You made it sound like you are ashamed of him. You can't be surprised that he became upset."

"I'm not ashamed of him! I like it when he acts like a boyfriend; it's just embarrassing when he makes a scene at the Ministry!"

"Then maybe you had better try to explain that to him. Tom and I aren't the most demonstrative couple, but it seems like Philippe is just trying to show you he cares about you.

"You might start by telling him you don't want him to leave, though you better have some good reasons, if he was as upset as you make him sound," Hermione continued.

Minerva sighed. "I suppose today is as good a day as any," she said, standing. "I might not have a chance to see him during the week. Congratulations on your engagement," she added, attempting a smile.

"Thanks, Minerva," Hermione smiled in response. After Minerva Apparated away, Hermione shook her head. She, of all people, was giving out relationship advice!

Hermione went straight to Flourish and Blott's to search for a book on bonding ceremonies. She browsed the shelves for twenty minutes without success. She finally asked the wizard at the counter.

"I'm sorry, we only have _The Modern Witch's Wedding_ in stock. It only covers the three most common ceremonies and doesn't describe the magic involved in any depth. We could try to order something for you, but you might be better off trying the used bookshop down the street."

Hermione was far from thrilled at being recommended to the shop of the man who had caused her so much trouble. But she was prepared this time, she reasoned. Hand on her wand, she cautiously entered the dingy store.

"Hello, how may I be of service to you today?" the proprietor asked politely. His face showed no sign of recognition.

"Do you have any books on bonding ceremonies?"

"What kind of bonding ceremonies? I have books on adoption bonds, wedding bonds, familiar bonds, blood bonds, oaths..."

"Marriage ceremonies," Hermione said shortly, still watching him closely as he began rummaging through piles of books.

A few minutes later, he had collected several books, which he set in front of her on the counter.

"If you want a historical perspective, you might like _Marriage Through the Ages_. _Theoretical Considerations of Marriage Bonds_ gives you more of a background on the magic involved in the ceremonies. But _A Compilation of Bonds for Wedding_ is probably the most practical if you are trying to decide on one to use. You can always refer to the other books for more information on a specific bond."

Hermione deliberated for a few minutes, leafing through the books.

"How much are they?"

"I'll sell you all three for one Galleon, seven Sickles."

"I'll take them," Hermione decided, placing the coins on the counter.

"Excellent. Please feel free to come back if you have any questions," the old shopkeeper said, handing her the paper sack holding her purchases.

Hermione thought it very strange that the old man hadn't shown any sign of remembering her. It was almost as though he had been Obliviated. She stopped suddenly, causing another shopper to almost crash into her.

Hermione made a face. Of course, Tom would have Obliviated the man. He probably just hadn't told her because of all the other things that had happened around the same time.

AN: In case I don't get any more chapters done this week, Merry Christmas! I hope this chapter lived up to your expectations! I bet you didn't see that coming, at least, I hope you didn't. Please review, think of it as a Christmas gift to me.


	39. Bonds and Their Breaking

Chapter 39 – Bonds and Their Breaking

_**Disclaimer:**_ All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

The week following Tom's proposal was calm. Tom observed work in several of the chambers in the Department of Mysteries while he made his decision. He did background research on the projects after hours in his flat, where Hermione spent much of her spare time, perusing the books she had purchased from the used bookshop on Diagon Alley.

Hermione considered asking Tom about the shopkeeper several times before she finally brought it up. Tom had spent Thursday working in the Thought Chamber. He was almost completely certain that he never wanted to spend another day there but wanted to give it equal treatment, and so did his usual reading on it after he finished work for the day. Hermione was there as usual, reading up on marriage bonds. The impetus was the type of bond she had just learned about. It was a particularly strong one, involving the exchange of blood and even an incantation similar to the one used for created Horcruxes. Because of the connection formed between the partners, ambiguous intentions could cause serious mental health problems. Though she didn't want to use the bond, she still wished that she could trust Tom to the extent that it required.

"I bought these books at the little bookshop on Diagon Alley," she mentioned offhandedly.

Tom immediately realised what she was asking. "The shopkeeper didn't remember you," he stated.

"How did you know?" she asked.

"I Obliviated him," Tom admitted, guiltless.

"Why?" Hermione asked. She acknowledged to herself that she wasn't truly upset by his actions, but she wanted to know his reasons.

"Officially, because he knew information restricted to Unspeakables from his illegal use of Veritaserum. But mainly, I wanted to protect you," he said, looking into her eyes. "If anyone found out how you got here, you would never be able to live a normal life in the Wizarding World. Maybe it was selfish of me, but I couldn't let that happen. Do you blame me?" he asked rhetorically.

Hermione's relief showed on her face. "Why didn't you tell me before?" she asked curiously.

"I didn't respond very well to what he forced you to tell me," Tom said slowly, taking his time to choose the right words. "It was selfish, I know, but I didn't want to bring up the situation again. I thought it would only remind you of how horribly I treated you after I found out about ... everything."

Hermione stood, walked over to Tom's chair, and knelt beside him, placing a hand on his arm. "I've obviously forgiven you for that. I wouldn't have agreed to marry you if I was still upset about that. I just wish you had told me, so I would have known what to think when the shopkeeper didn't remember me," she said.

"I'm sorry," Tom apologized, pulling her up into his arms.

"It's alright," Hermione accepted. "Just tell me next time you plan to Obliviate someone," she added, trying to lighten the mood.

Tom chuckled softly, resting his chin on top of her head. "I will. So, have you figured out anything about bonding ceremonies yet?" he asked.

"I've decided which ones I don't want to use," she replied, rolling her eyes.

"Oh?"

"The ones that cause you to die at the same time as your spouse," she shuddered.

Tom smirked at her discomfited expression for a moment before becoming serious.

"Are there any that you are considering?" he asked.

"Well, there have been a few. It really depends on what we want. We could just sign a contract like a Muggle marriage licence," Hermione paused, seeing a bit of displeasure on Tom's face, "but I would prefer something more enduring."

Tom relaxed. After seeing just how binding Muggle marriages were in his parents' case, he was definitely not going to settle for one for himself.

"Can you show me any that you liked in particular?" Tom asked.

Hermione wriggled off his lap and grabbed one of the books before returning to his chair, where Tom pulled her back onto his lap. She flipped to the first scrap of paper she had slid between the pages.

"This one is one of the weakest ones, but it doesn't allow divorce except in the case of abuse. Not the most appealing, but practical," she shrugged. Tom kept an impassive face, but he had been hoping for something a bit more, well, something. He didn't quite know what he wanted, but he was sure that wasn't it.

"What's the next one?" he asked, turning to the next bookmark.

"This one is also permanent. The only problem is that there are no exceptions that enable a divorce or separation." As soon as Hermione realised what she had implied, she cringed.

Tom stiffened at her comment. "If you didn't trust me not to hurt you, you shouldn't have agreed to marry me," he said softly, choosing not to hide the sting her words had caused.

"I'm sorry, Tom," Hermione apologized, manoeuvring around on his lap to face him. "I'm just not used to the idea of marriage being quite so permanent."

"Do you have a problem with a permanent bond?"

"Not one with you, but in general, the idea makes me a bit nervous. While I didn't expect that there would be no-fault divorce, I did think that there would always be some recourse in the case of adultery, abandonment, or abuse."

"Then we'll have to find a bond that can relieve your anxiety," Tom said decisively, moving on to the next bond she had marked. He stalled on a page Hermione hadn't marked and perused it for a moment.

"What about this one?" he asked. "It's permanent, but prevents the things you were worried about."

Hermione looked at the page. Thankfully, it wasn't the one that reminded her of the Horcrux spell. "I saw that one," she recalled, "but I didn't quite know what it meant by soul binding."

They continued reading down the page.

"_...facilitates a soul bond that may intensify with time. Effects may vary based upon the emotions of the bound parties, but generally include mental and emotion components to increase empathy and understanding between spouses. Originated in the French magical community in the 11__th__ century, presumably as magical equivalent and foil to the contemporary Muggle ideal of courtly love, which did not necessarily fall within the binds of matrimony. It was meant to provide the attraction of courtly love while simultaneously prevent extramarital relations. It failed to become widely used because it required strong pre-existing emotions between the betrothed couple in order to form a successful marriage bond." _

"It sounds intriguing," Hermione admitted, her romantic side almost thrilled that Tom even seemed to be considering such an intimate bond.

"Do you mind if I mark it?" Tom asked, reaching for one of the scraps of paper he had pulled out from the earlier pages. Hermione shook her head. They looked through the rest of the book, agreeing on a few more possibilities.

After Hermione had returned to her own flat, Tom thought about the bonds they had looked at. While he strongly preferred something completely permanent, he wasn't sure that he cared to form a mental bond with Hermione. It sounded too much like Legilimency for his comfort. If they married as quickly as they had planned, he could be in for an even more difficult time searching for the third portal than he had expected. After a few more minutes of thought, Tom was decided. September was too early. New Year's Eve sounded much better, and Hermione ought to appreciate the romantic significance.

He would never have guessed that Hermione had the exact same feelings. She was willing to consider a permanent union, as long as there were safeguards in place, but not if they were getting married in September. She loved Tom, but that didn't mean she had suddenly lost all common sense. She would suggest early next year. It would give both of them more time to settle into their jobs, plan the wedding, and most importantly, build trust. She thought about the bond they had spent the most time on. She didn't really have any significant secrets left, since Tom already knew about his possible future role, so a permanent mental connection wasn't necessarily a bad thing. In fact, it would make it much simpler for her to make sure he didn't follow his original path.

By Wednesday of the next week, Tom had decided on his new assignment at work. Instead of reporting to one of the supervisors, he went directly to Trelawney's office.

"Tom, have you made your decision?" she asked, looked over the top of her reading glasses at him.

"I've decided to take your suggestion and work in the Time Chamber, but I would like to give the locked room a try, also, if possible," he answered politely.

"That shouldn't be a problem, Tom," she replied. "I'll speak to your new supervisor about your schedule. You should also check with the librarian about getting old Sennsik's journals. He wasn't the most lucid toward the end, from what I've heard, but they might help you. By the time you finish with that, I should have your schedule from Unspeakable Jones." With that, she shooed him off to the library.

Unsurprisingly, it took a few hours to find the journals. They obviously hadn't been a top priority. They were scattered amongst a large pile of books, parchment, office supplies, and other miscellany in small room off the south side of the library. Tom thought they must have dumped everything from Sennsik's office in it as soon as he died, based on the lack of organization. After taking a few minutes for lunch, Tom reported to Trelawney for the second time that day.

"You will be excused from the Time Chamber every Friday to work on the locked room," Trelawney announced. "Jones will brief you on your other duties. He's in his office right now, so you might as well go meet with him right away."

Tom's meeting with his new supervisor went very well. Unspeakable Jones seemed extremely intelligent and didn't waste time. Within ten minutes, he had been given a stack of parchment detailing his assignment and dismissed with instructions to report to the Time Chamber prepared for his duties the next morning.

Hermione had spent the last few days trying to work her concern over the timing of their wedding into a conversation. She sighed heavily. The timing just never seemed right. Tom still seemed insecure occasionally. She didn't want to just tell him that she didn't want to marry him yet. He could completely misunderstand her meaning.

"Hermione," Alphard whispered, "it's our turn." Hermione returned her focus to her surroundings, ready for their training to start.

Later, as Hermione sat in the Ministry cafeteria, she reflected on how glad she was to have gotten out of most of the Auror training. While she enjoyed working with Alphard and even Dawlish, it seemed rather inane compared to her past experiences. She was just about to return to the Auror department when Minerva threw herself into the chair across from her.

"Minerva!" Hermione exclaimed. She had never seen her in this state, not even after she had been hit in the chest by four Stunners. She had a deathly pallor and her hair looked as though it hadn't been brushed in days.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked, concerned for her friend.

"He left me," Minerva spat bitterly.

"Philippe?" Hermione exclaimed.

"Who else?"

* * *

_After her conversation with Hermione, it took Minerva a few days to beat down her pride sufficiently to allow herself to talk to Philippe. In all honesty, she had been hoping that he would come see her, but for the first time since the beginning of their relationship, he hadn't initiated their post-quarrel conversation. There had been many quarrels, and Minerva had tried to convince herself that this one would blow over just like all the other had. _

_Minerva Floo-ed to the hotel where Philippe had kept a room since graduating. His family was quite wealthy, so it was not much of a burden for him. She climbed the wide stairs to his room, vacillating between worry and indignation and knocked on the door._

"_Entrez vous__," he called from within the room. _

"_Hello, Philippe," she said, stepping over the threshold, refusing to allow her slight trepidation to show itself in her voice. _

"_Minerva," he replied, coolly, barely looking up from the parchment spread on the desk._

"_What are you working on?" she asked, attempting to start at least a semblance of a conversation. _

"_An offer from a Quidditch team in France."_

"_So you're planning on leaving?" Minerva was starting to feel a twinge of fear that was quite unsettling._

"_I don't have much of a reason to stay, currently," he sniped, uncharacteristically, turning to look at her. _

"I _want you to stay!" _

"_Why? I'm sure you can find some other fool who will fit into your schedule more conveniently than I have," he replied, calm once again._

"_I don't want some other fool!" Minerva exploded._

"_I had always thought fools to be rather interchangeable," Philippe mused, turning back to the papers on the desk. _

"_Are you leaving because I didn't like you making a scene at the Ministry?" she asked incredulously. _

"_You ought to be able to figure it out!" Philippe was obviously angry now, even more so than he had been at the end of their previous argument._

"_I know we quarrelled, but that's no reason for you to go off to France!"_

"_That's not why I'm going back to France! Can you honestly look at this relationship and say that I should stay because of it?" _

_Minerva was silent.  
_

"_I'm leaving Friday for Lille. It's near my parents and the team could be very competitive in a few years. It's a better offer than I was expecting."_

* * *

"It only got worse from there," Minerva said, heatedly. Her ire had been reignited while telling the story.

"So you're not going to do anything?" Hermione asked.

"I'm not going to beg him to stay, if that's what you're asking."

Hermione sighed. She was almost positive that she and Tom had never gotten into such an argument, though the one that culminated in the dance at the Diamond Sphinx certainly came close. She just wasn't a volatile as Minerva. She sat silently for a moment, trying to come up with something to say. Finally, she spoke.

"But hasn't Philippe been begging practically your entire relationship? He pursued you the entire time, everything that happened or didn't happen was up to you. He has always had to face the possibility of rejection, but he kept going, despite the beating his pride must have taken. If you really care about him, is losing a little of your pride really too high a cost?"

Minerva huffed, but Hermione detected a hint of uneasiness in her expression.

"Just think about it," she said, laying a hand on her friend's arm. "I have to get back to work," she added, standing. "I'll see you later."

As she walked away, Hermione hoped that Minerva would take her advice. She was sure that Minerva cared very deeply for Philippe, even if she didn't yet love him. She smiled wryly for a second: who would have expected the Gryffindor bookworm to be the one giving instead of needing relationship advice?

That evening, as they sat in Tom's flat, Hermione told Tom about her conversation with Minerva.

"She's being unreasonable," Tom said, after Hermione had finished. "Philippe has taken far more from her that I would have."

"He loves her," Hermione smiled. "We'll put up with a lot from the ones we love," she teased, poking him in the side. "But you are right," she conceded. "It doesn't sound like Minerva has been completely fair to Philippe. I hope she doesn't just let him leave. They've been together almost as long as we have."

"We haven't been together that long."

"True," Hermione agree, resting her head against his shoulder. "Tom, I've been thinking about our wedding. I want to marry you, but I think we were a little hasty in deciding to marry in September. We're still getting used to our jobs, and I would just like a little more time to get everything ready. Plus, if we're considering a permanent bond, especially a soul bond, which I think you seemed to prefer, I am definitely not opposed to more time to get to know you better before we marry."

"I was actually thinking the same thing," Tom admitted. "I just didn't know how to tell you."

"Gryffindor courage isn't always a bad thing," she interjected.

Tom snorted, but continued, ignoring her comment. "What do you think about getting married New Year's Eve instead?"

Hermione thought for a moment, before smiling widely. "That's a wonderful idea! I would almost say that you must be a closet romantic if I didn't know better," she laughed.

Tom smirked. "It's a good thing you know better, then, isn't it?" Determined to wipe the smirk off his face, Hermione kissed him suddenly, smirking herself at the slightly glazed look on his face when she pulled away. Quickly realising her game, Tom responded in a similar way, pulling her across his lap as he lightly bit her bottom lip, slipping his tongue over it when she gasped. A few minutes later, he pulled back, exceedingly proud of himself at the sight of her swollen mouth, ignoring the fact that his own probably had a similar appearance. Hermione was definitely not a passive partner.

* * *

Before they knew it, July was over. Hermione hadn't heard anything about Philippe, so she assumed that he must have gone back to France. Although she had seen Minerva at the Ministry in passing, they hadn't had a long conversation since the one in the cafeteria.

Not until after Louisa Owled Hermione an invitation for tea at her home during the second week of August did she come to learn what had happened between the former Head Girl and Ravenclaw Quidditch Captain.

Once ensconced in the parlour of the new Wood House, Louisa wasted no time in filling Hermione in on what she had heard concerning their friends.

"Philippe left," Louisa said, shock apparent in her voice and expression. "I heard from one of the secretaries at the Ministry that he stopped by to see Minerva right before he went back to France, but it must not have solved anything. Of course, Philippe had been unhappy for quite a while, even before the end of the term," she confided.

"How do you know?" Hermione questioned.

"Well, Jason and Philippe are exceptionally good friends. Apparently, Philippe even went to Jason for advice, though I don't know why." At Hermione's sharp look, Louisa explained herself.

"Hermione, I know that you thought it was strange or even foolish for me to marry Jason so soon, but it really is not that strange. Witches like you and Minerva are far more unusual. You are both extremely smart and independent. Tom didn't grow up in society, so it was not so difficult for him to adjust to your independence. Philippe, on the other hand, has known what is expected of him almost since he could walk. He showed his loyalty to Minerva in countless ways. He even neglected returning to his own family and estate for months in order to spend whatever time with Minerva she could spare from work. According to Jason, he attempted to give Minerva the traditional courting gifts, which generally precede a betrothal. If it were you, there would be an excuse, but Minerva is a Pureblood, so I can't believe that she didn't understand what he was trying to do," Louisa sighed, sipping her tea.

"Is there any way she could have not understood?" Hermione asked. She didn't know what to think. Minerva hadn't seemed to think that Philippe's departure was related to anything beyond their argument.

"I suppose, but I can't think of any reason why she wouldn't have known," Louisa replied. "And at this point, I'm not sure it would be wise to even ask. I talked to her last week and she seemed determined that Philippe was nothing more than a passing fancy. Of course, I didn't believe her, but she is probably the most stubborn witch I have ever met."

Hermione nodded in agreement. Deciding to change the topic to something more uplifting, she began telling Louisa about her recent research on marriage bonds and their decision about the date.

"You're considering a soul bond?" Louisa asked, astounded. "I didn't think you would agree to that. Like I said earlier, you've always seemed so independent."

"It's more for Tom than for me," Hermione admitted. "He grew up without a family. It's extremely hard for him to trust anyone, so I'm willing to compromise on the bond if it helps him feel more secure. I know I love him; I really have no reason to be afraid of permanency."

Louisa smiled sappily. Being married didn't make her less of a romantic. After conversing a few more minutes, Hermione moved to set her teacup upon its saucer and depart.

"Do you mind if I read your tea leaves? I like to keep in practice," Louisa requested politely.

Hermione hesitated. She was sure that Louisa had some ability at divination after the events at her wedding and she really didn't want to know whatever the tealeaves might tell her, but she couldn't think of any way to politely refuse.

"Of course not," Hermione replied, her forced smile turning into a grimace as soon as Louisa's attention turned toward the china cup.

Louisa was silent for a few minutes. At first, her face retained its expression of general affability, but as she turned the cup back and forth, her mouth tensed and a line formed between her brows.

"This can't be right," she murmured once, rotating it again. Hermione began to reach for her cup but was forestalled by Louisa's outstretched palm. Louisa began to set the cup down, but quickly brought it back to only a few inches in from of her face. The frown lines deepened.

Finally, she pulled her wand out of her pocket and cast a cleaning charm on the cup.

"What was it?" Hermione asked uneasily.

Louisa avoided eye contact.

"Louisa?"

"I'm sure it was a mistake," she smiled falsely. "I am frightfully out of practice, you know."

Hermione sighed. "Please just tell me, Louisa."

All the cheer seemed to trickle out of her friend. She took a deep, shuddering breath.

"It was bizarre," Louisa said quietly. "I've never seen or heard of anything like it. Though it seems like that's a pattern with anything to do with you," she attempted to joke. When she didn't get even a hint of a smile from her friend, she continued.

"At first, I saw a swan, which means good luck and a happy marriage. But as I turned the cup, the leaves shifted. The neck became a serpent and the body a toad, spiteful enemies and deceit. Just when I thought it was finished, it was as though a rush of water disturbed the leaves, though there was barely any left in the cup. The serpent and toad disappeared and were replaced by a curtain or cloak, which can mean a secret

"I'm sorry, Hermione," Louisa apologised after the awkward silence. "I should never have bothered you with this."

"Don't worry about it," Hermione said, brightly, attempting to sooth her friend. "You know I don't particularly believe in divination, though you do seem to have uncanny luck with it."

Louisa endeavoured to smile. Hermione made her excuses and left within the quarter-hour.

She Apparated directly to her bedroom and collapsed on the bed, dumping her purse to the floor.

"_A swan, a snake, a toad, and a cloak,_" she thought wearily. She dreaded thinking about what they could mean. A snake was all too obvious. And a cloak that meant a secret.

"..._or a cloak and_ _a secret_," Hermione contemplated. "_A cloak _is _a secret_," her mind twisted the words. Horror overcame her. She hurled herself off her bed and scrambled across the room to her trunk. A cold drop of sweat rolled down her face. She rifled through the contents until her stiff fingers brushed the silky fabric on the bottom. She pulled the cloak out.

"_Finite Incantatem,_" she murmured, watching the cloak fade into view with relief. She began to recast the Disillusionment spell, but stopped. Something felt wrong. It was not a wrongness that could be detected by the five senses: rather, it was the sensation that there was something lurking just out of view or of a sword dangling inches above the bed while asleep. Hermione stepped over to her mirror. After a long moment of hesitation, she drew it over her shoulders.

* * *

AN: Sorry for the long wait, but I had a wedding and finals to deal with. I hope this chapter meets with your expectations. Things have been going rather swimmingly for everyone, but as you can see, that is about to change. Please, take out your frustrations on me by pressing the button at the bottom of the chapter.


	40. Fooling Themselves SUPER REVIEW CHAPTER

Chapter 40 – Fooling Themselves

_**Disclaimer:**_ All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

Life had gone exceedingly smoothly for Tom Riddle after setting the date of his wedding. His work in the Department of Mysteries was challenging, but barely so. He was assigned to work on the new Time-Turners he had first seen at Hogwarts in Ancient Runes class, when he first began to realise the import of what Hermione had been hiding from him. He smirked to himself, looking up from the piece he was engraving runes on. Hermione wasn't hiding much of anything from him anymore. He frowned for a moment: she never had actually told him about the Cloak of Invisibility. Not that it particularly mattered. He couldn't imagine that she was hiding anything more significant than one of the Deathly Hallows and he already had it in an extremely safe place. Though generally considered Dark, the effectiveness of blood wards more than made up for the slight risk should they be traced back to him.

Tom knew that Hermione would eventually find out about the missing cloak. If he hadn't learned of a third portal, he probably would have returned it to her trunk, but as it was, he was much more inclined to keep it himself. With luck, however, they would be permanently bonded before she realised that the cloak in her trunk was a rather cunning replica.

Tom had found his research on the sealed room much more intriguing than his actual assignment. Sennsik had obviously been more than a bit insane by the time of his death or suicide, but he had still been brilliant. Tom was sure that he would never have conceived of anything remotely similar to some of the dead man's theories. Unfortunately, the Unspeakable had been obsessed with love. Some of the pages of the journals read like a schoolboy's ramblings on his first infatuation. Tom couldn't see how they had anything to do with the detailed diagrams of wards, potions recipes, and experimental spells that filled the rest of the books.

It had take Tom well a few weeks to get to Sennsik's last journal. It was here that his disconnect from reality truly became apparent. Gradually, the writings became overwhelmed with references to the Killing Curse. Sennsik seemed to have been working on developing a shield for it, but there didn't seem to be any hint of success in his notes. Nevertheless, the work the Unspeakable had done on it could be very useful. Tom wasn't sure how far the protection from possessing all three Deathly Hallows went, and he didn't care to have to find out. If he could come up with a way to counter the Killing Curse, he would feel much more secure, especially since he didn't plan on informing anyone else of his success.

Having completed all the preliminary research on the wards possible, Tom finally began working on the door in the second week of August. He was so intent on his work that he didn't notice Hermione's absence until Sunday afternoon. He hadn't seen her since she went to tea with Louisa. It was a little odd, but she had been extremely busy with training in the past few weeks. Tom recalled suddenly what had happened after their last meeting with Louisa. She had ability as a Seer, there was no question. A chill went through him.

"_If Hermione doesn't contact me today, I'll go over to her flat tomorrow after work,_" he decided.

* * *

She looked at the mirror, then down at the cloak, clearly visible in the reflection. A burst of anger and fear raced through her.

She threw the cloak onto the floor and blasted it with various spells for dispelling magic. Eventually she was left with nothing except a length of fine black silk. Hermione knew at once who was most likely responsible for the theft. There were very few who would have known what the original cloak was, much less how to transfigure the replica. In fact, she could think of only three, including herself.

Hermione took a deep breath, trying to decide the best course of action. A few minutes later, she walked determinedly to the building's main fireplace and walked into the green flames.

"Hogwarts, Dumbledore's office." She could only hope that he had decided to remain at the school over the summer or returned early to prepare for the new term.

She exhaled with relief when she stepped across the threshold into the room that had become familiar to her during the last year.

"Miss Granger," Dumbledore greeted her, clearly surprised. The expression on his face seemed strange to Hermione: she could hardly recall ever seeing him surprised when he was Headmaster.

The shaken look on her face caused her former professor some alarm.

"Are you alright?" he asked, concern taking over surprise.

"No," she bit out. "I am definitely not alright."

"Would you like a lemon drop?" he asked kindly, offering her the dish.

She shook her head and began pacing in front of his desk. Finally, she spoke.

"It's about the Deathly Hallows."

Dumbledore paled.

"I never told you, but I have been in possession of one since shortly before I arrived here."

"Which one?" he asked, a strange light appearing in his eyes.

"The cloak," she answered shortly. "It belonged to a friend who died in the final battle. I didn't know what it was until I started working with Tom in the Department of Mysteries. I can't tell you everything, but the Minister of Magic thought we needed the Deathly Hallows for an assignment. When Tom and I went abroad to search for information, I accidentally left the cloak in my trunk. He must have taken it then. No one else has had access to it or would know what it was. He left a very good copy in its place, so I didn't notice until today."

The silence stretched uncomfortably. After what seemed an eternity, Dumbledore said softly, "It appears we have both been extremely foolish."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked urgently.

"It seems that Mr. Riddle now possesses at least two of the Deathly Hallows. You see, he disarmed me right after I returned from fighting Grindelwald, who had been the last owner of the Elder Wand. Since it was useless to me, I gave it to him at graduation. I was not in a state to trust myself with it, and your relationship with him gave me hope that he would not misuse its powers in the way he would have before."

"What should I do?" Hermione asked, helplessly.

"I'm afraid that I cannot help you, Miss Granger. I know no more about the Deathly Hallows than you do, probably less. I only hope that he does not find the last of the Hallows. For a single person to have such power..." he shook his head.

Hermione looked at Dumbledore, awareness dawning on her face.

"He maybe already does." Dumbledore looked at her sharply.

"Do you know anything about the Department of Mysteries?" she asked. He nodded. "Did you hear anything about the Unspeakable who went missing several months ago?" He nodded once again.

"He fell through a portal very similar to the one I came through. We originally thought that we would need all three of the Deathly Hallows to rescue him, but he reappeared spontaneously about a month ago. Tom was the one who came up with the theory for how he could have returned through the portal. He claimed that he must have misinterpreted the runes the first time. It's possible that he was originally correct and actually used the portal to bring the Unspeakable back."

Dumbledore thought for a few minutes. When he spoke, it was all Hermione could do to restrain herself.

"Miss Granger, I must ask you not to allow Tom to find out that you know about his possession of the Deathly Hallows. I am surprised that he hasn't used them for anything else and it is possible that _you_ are the only thing restraining him from doing so. I have heard that you are now engaged, so it seems that you are important to Tom. If you were to leave him, there is no way of knowing what he might do."

"You want me to remain engaged to and possibly marry someone who has stolen from me, lied to me, and may yet be responsible for the deaths of my friends and family?" Hermione exclaimed angrily.

"Yes, I do," Dumbledore replied dejectedly. "You have somehow come to love Tom Riddle and I believe that he must love you as well, though he may not know it himself. A year ago, nothing could have restrained Tom from using the Deathly Hallows immediately to create fear and gain power. The only thing that has changed since then is you. You have been his equal, his friend, and are now his betrothed. He has never had any of these before. If you are taken out of the equation, we are left with the same Tom Riddle who became Lord Voldemort, except he will be even more brutal because of what he has lost."

"I'm not sure it would be possible for him to be more brutal," Hermione countered.

"Perhaps not. But you must remember that there is also the chance, however small, that Tom will never attempt to use the Deathly Hallows in the way that we fear. You may be able to increase this chance if you remain with him."

Hermione glared at her old professor before giving him a sharp nod and walking over to the fireplace.

"I wish you well, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said, bidding her farewell.

She made no sign that she heard him before stepping into the flames to return to her flat.

Hermione spent two days in her flat, trying to sort out her thoughts. She realised with some displeasure that she still loved Tom, despite his general untrustworthiness and deceit. The more she considered the whole situation, the more she came to agree with Dumbledore. In fact, marrying Tom could possibly be the best strategy, especially if she could get him to agree to one of the stronger bonds without arousing his suspicion. She would gain insight into his thoughts and emotions and have a guarantee that he wouldn't harm her, despite her unfortunate blood. His marriage to her would weaken his status in the eyes of the Pureblooded elite, making it much more difficult for him to retain and increase his following.

Hermione had made her decision. She pasted a smile on her face and Apparated with a crack.

"Hermione," Tom greeted with a smile, rising from his chair. "I was just wondering where you had been all weekend.

"I've been a little depressed about Minerva and Philippe," she lied. "Louisa told me that he actually went back to France last week. Apparently, it was much more Minerva's fault than I thought. Philippe tried to court traditionally her, according to Louisa, but Minerva refused him repeatedly."

"I've read about Pureblood courting, but it always seemed slightly ridiculous to me," Tom admitted. "It's possible that she didn't know about it, though that's unlikely, since she is a Pureblood. So you've been sitting in your flat thinking about Minerva all weekend?" he asked sceptically.

"No," Hermione laughed. "I decided to do a little studying to try to get through my training more quickly. I should have sent you a note," she added apologetically.

"It's alright," Tom replied. "Though I was a little afraid you had changed your mind about our engagement and were working up the courage to tell me," he teased.

"Never," Hermione said, standing on her toes to kiss him, effectively ending the conversation.

"What have you been working on?" she asked curiously, the stack of journals catching her eye.

"My official assignment is improving the new Time-Turners, but I'm also working on an independent project."

Hermione raised an eyebrow, curiosity evident.

"There's a door in the department that has been locked for years. The Auror who used it was killed or committed suicide using _Avada Kedavra_. No one has been able to get through his wards. These journals," he indicated the books on his desk, "were his. Hopefully, I'll be able to piece together whatever magic he used and reverse it."

"Do you have any ideas yet?" Hermione asked.

"Not a single one," he replied ruefully. "He was obsessed with the power of love, he mentions it almost every other page, but I haven't found anything concrete. Of course, I'm not sure how much I'll be able to tell you once I come up with something. It depends on the terms of your security clearance."

"Oh, well. If I had wanted your job, I would have gotten it," she retorted archly.

"Of course, how could I think otherwise?"

"What are you doing for dinner tonight?" Hermione asked suddenly.

"I hadn't planned anything."

"I'll make something in my flat," she offered.

"What time should I come over?" he asked.

"Between six-thirty and seven, I think. See you then." She pecked him on the lips and Disapparated.

When Tom appeared in Hermione's flat, it was silent. There was some dish cooking on the stove, but Hermione was nowhere to be found. Tom walked through the living room to the closed bedroom door. After no one responded to his soft knock, he opened it and walked in. He quickly realised that Hermione wasn't in the room, but he took his time looking around. He was just about to leave when something caught his eye. The piece of black silk poked out from underneath the bed. Curious, Tom bent down to pull it out into the light. It did not take him long to recognize it. Biting back a curse, he shoved the fabric back into its original position. He had just straightened when he heard the pop of someone Apparating.

Luckily, Tom hadn't brought anything with him that would give away his earlier arrival. Confident that the short distance would cause the noises of Disapparation and Apparation to sound simultaneously, he focused and reappeared in Hermione's living room, ending up face to face with his fiancée, who was clutching a paper sack.

"I forgot to buy the white wine," she explained.

"What are you making?" he asked.

"Fettuccini with white wine garlic cream sauce."

"I thought you said at the beginning of the summer that you weren't a very good cook?"

"Well, I hadn't cooked much at all for several years. As long as I pretend it's just a potion, I can manage fairly well," she smiled, walking into the kitchen. "It will be about twenty minutes, so unless you want to help me cook, you can amuse yourself in the living room. There are a few new books on the coffee table," she called behind her.

Tom sat down on the couch and picked up one of the books she had mentioned. He opened it, but did not actually read any of the content beyond the introduction.

Hermione knew about the cloak, he realised. There was no way she wouldn't connect him to its absence. She probably even knew when he had taken it. But why was she pretending nothing was wrong? Tom had been hoping that she wouldn't find out until after they were married because he had figured that she would break off their engagement immediately.

A possible answer was that she had decided to get married in spite of his actions, but Tom doubted that she would have made that decision without at least confronting him. There must be some reason that she preferred to marry him without dealing with the issue. Tom knew she loved him, but he didn't think that was enough for her to ignore what he had done.

Before he knew it, Hermione announced that their dinner was ready.

After they were finished and the dishes were cleaned and put away, Hermione curled up familiarly next to Tom on the couch.

"Tom, I've been thinking about our wedding. I know it's much further away now, but I wanted to talk to you about this as soon as possible."

Tom mentally began preparing his defence.

"I've decided that I'll agree to one of the permanent bonds, even a soul bond, if you prefer it."

Tom was shocked. He had been expecting something completely different.

"Tom?" she asked nervously, when he didn't respond. "Wasn't that what you wanted?"

"What made you decide?" he asked, sidestepping the question.

"I realised that I couldn't imagine marrying anyone else, and with a soul bond, I wouldn't need to worry about any of the reasons that I was originally against a permanent bond," she answered.

"If you're sure," he said carefully, "then I am thrilled, but I don't want you to feel pressured. I'll marry you, regardless of what bonding ceremony you choose."

"I choose this one," she said reaching for the book they had looked at the previous week and opening it to the page of the soul bond.

Tom smiled and kissed her deeply.

"Thank you," he whispered after they parted.

Once he had returned to his flat, the smile vanished from his face, replaced by a hard, brooding stare. He had quickly recognised the motive behind Hermione's decision. She knew that he had one of the Deathly Hallows. If he was correct, she had probably gone straight to Dumbledore, who would have told her about the Elder Wand. From there, it would not have been terribly difficult for her to infer that he actually had all three, as evidenced by the reappearance of Unspeakable Nichols.

He slammed his hand into the wall next to the bookcase and swore. She knew everything he had been trying to hide except for the existence of a third portal. She was obviously trying to manipulate him or even steal one of the Deathly Hallows by remaining engaged to him. Although he didn't like it, he probably needed to hide the Elder Wand and go back to using his old wand. He would also have to be careful to maintain the glamour on his ring. The engraving on it would be easily recognisable to Hermione.

He would marry Hermione and even use the soul bond, but he would never again trust her. She would come to regret her betrayal, but she would never be able to escape him. Once she was bound to him, he would be free to pursue whatever goals he chose and she would be able to do nothing to stop him. He would make her suffer for her betrayal, even if he couldn't harm her physically. He smiled, an expression devoid of the warmth and joy he ought to have felt when thinking of his fiancée. All he needed to do was allow her to think that her subterfuge was successful until after the wedding. Then it would be too late.

Hermione was pleased with how she had handled the evening. She was almost sure that Tom hadn't noticed anything different in her humour, and if he had, he would attribute it to her empathy for Minerva and Philippe. She had been relieved when Tom accepted her reasons for the choice of bond without further questions. As long as he didn't discover that she knew about the cloak until after the wedding, everything would be fine. Hopefully, once they were married, she would be able to continue to influence him and prevent him from using the Deathly Hallows. A few days or even weeks or months of his anger after they were married were more than worth the lives of countless innocents in the future. Eventually, it would be all right.

AN: It's been twenty chapters, which means another SUPER REVIEW CHAPTER!!! This is a chance for all you lurkers to exorcise any slight feeling of guilt for not reviewing by even dropping me a short "I liked it, update soon." Of course, I would be happier with longer reviews, but I'll take what I can get. I want to break 1,000 reviews. Crazy, isn't it? But you can do it! And even if I already have 1,000 when you read this, you should still review. Since I only have one day of freedom left, getting a ton of reviews might inspire me to write more once I start classes again... And seriously, you know you want to figuratively yell at me about _something_ in this chapter. Did I mention that I'm going to end this story with Tom killing Hermione, creating a Horcrux, and ruling Wizarding Britain for over one hundred years? That ought to give you a reason to review if my attempt at a guilt trip didn't work!


	41. Public Opinion

Chapter 41 – Public Opinion

_**Disclaimer:**_ All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

A week later, Hermione was weary. There was no better word to describe the state she found herself in. She felt as though she had lived through this infinitely many times, and between Tom, Dumbledore, and her ingrained Gryffindor characteristics, there seemed to be no way to escape the cycle before it became permanent even as the year changed.

As she lay alone in the dark, she recalled what her life had once been. She had entered the magical world full of excitement and hope, determined to make it her own, but had run headlong into prejudice and hatred caused by the man she was now to marry, the same man who had repeatedly proven himself to be fully deserving of the title "Heir of Slytherin." Some days, the only thing that kept Hermione from screaming out of frustration and anger was Harry, how he had looked after every summer spent with the Dursleys, his joy as he reached out for the Golden Snitch, and finally, his corpse in the Great Hall. She was doing this for him, and everyone else Voldemort had harmed.

But sometimes, when she was on the brink of sleep, another image would float out of her subconscious into her half-dreaming mind. This boy, almost man, also had dark hair the colour of a raven's wing, but his eyes were the colour of storm clouds, though their expression of pain and anger was much the same as that which she had seen so often in Harry's emerald eyes. The feelings they caused evoked in Hermione forced her to admit to herself that perhaps Harry was not the only reason she was going through with the engagement and wedding.

She wondered what Harry would have thought of her, of how she allowed his cloak to be taken by the man responsible for his parents', and eventually his own, death. He would have been angry, then so terribly disappointed. Actually, he would probably have been disappointed in almost everything she had done since arriving in 1944. Killing Tom Riddle had always been his burden; he had long known that he was the only one capable of stopping him. Hermione had also been capable of stopping Tom Riddle the second she arrived, but she had failed, putting up a fight far from worthy of her house. Of course, she knew that casting _Avada Kedavra_ on him in the library would have been wrong; he had not yet done anything deserving of such a death. But now it seemed that such actions on his part were almost inevitable. He was the same ambitious, deceitful man she had feared he would become, except more powerful, controlling some of the most dangerous artefacts in existence with the ability to walk into death itself.

Hermione's course was set. She had inadvertently helped Tom gain even more power and it was her responsibility to stop him. She had boxed herself in, leaving her only a single option, the weapon that Dumbledore had always told Harry would serve him against Lord Voldemort, and the only power Lord Voldemort had been incapable of possessing. Now, she feared it was the only thing that could possibly cause Tom to change his course. She could only hope that the love she felt for him despite of his countless lies would be enough to sway him.

A part of her still wanted to scream at him, to force him to admit to his deception, and demand that he stop, but she knew it was impossible. He had what he wanted, and while she would like to believe that he loved her, she knew that he was more than capable of putting up a front that she had been all too willing to accept as his true feelings.

To think that she would have been getting married in just more than a week, had she not been alarmed by the idea of permanency. In the end, it hadn't made much difference, she supposed bitterly. Pulling the duvet around her, she rolled over and attempted to bury herself in her bedding, wanting nothing more than to fall asleep and wake up to a world in which she was a normal person, who had never fought, killed, and lied for mere survival.

* * *

Tom had not been overly concerned with Hermione's discovery. She had decided to marry him in spite of it and he doubted that she would risk changing her mind. She probably thought that the bond would keep her safe once they were married. Indeed, it would, but only physically, not emotionally. Although Tom recognised that he felt something for her, he would not allow her feelings to dictate his actions.

Content with his resolution, Tom busied himself with his work at the Ministry. He produced an average of one improvement on the Time-Turner every two weeks, more than enough to satisfy his superior, even though it only cost him about two days of work per week. As long as he continued to produce positive results, no one cared that he spent the majority of his time going through Sennsik's research and pouring over books in the library.

He was sure that he had found a major clue for the wards on the door when he went through the journals for the second time, but he had not yet been able to unravel its meaning. One of the last pages Sennsik had written in his chicken scratch, "The reversal of hate is the key." Normally, he would have attempted to gain Hermione's insight, but as it was, he much preferred that she know as little as possible about his research.

BREAKBREAKBREAK

The date of the wedding crept closer. Hermione had sent out invitations and was beginning to receive RSVPs from guests. They had only invited about fifty, friends and acquaintances from school and work. Hermione was constantly struck that no one found it odd to receive wedding invitations from a couple of only eighteen and nineteen.

Between her preparations for the wedding, her Auror work, and her constant worrying, Hermione barely noticed the passing of time. She would have forgotten her own birthday had Louisa not contacted Tom about it. She had been shocked to arrive at her flat one Monday and find no fewer than ten other people there. Alphard and Dawlish had been invited, though she guessed that was because of Louisa. She doubted that Tom would have invited them, based on his previous reactions to Alphard. Even Philippe had come, taking an international Portkey for the evening. Hermione cringed internally when she glimpsed Minerva's reaction, but quickly put it out her mind, feeling a twinge of guilt for her lack of solidarity with her friend.

The surprise birthday party had almost enabled Hermione to forget about the state of her personal life for a few hours. Tom had been the same attentive boyfriend she had come to expect, and surrounded by friends, Hermione felt happier than she had for what seemed like years.

Before she knew it, it was the first weekend in December and she was standing with Louisa and Minerva in Darner's Clothiers on Diagon Alley for her final dress fitting. Minerva was her sole attendant and Louisa had insisted on coming with to make sure the tailor knew what he was doing.

Hermione's dress was exactly what she had imagined since she was a little girl. She knew that this would be the only wedding she would have, so she wanted it to look perfect, even if the emotions accompanying it were completely opposite of what she had always dreamed of. Mr. Darner had initially been scandalized by the sketches she had brought with her, but Hermione had no intention of spending her wedding day swaddled in one of the contemporary monstrosities made from leftover parachute silk, and eventually, the little man had been thrilled with the opportunity the design offered to showcase his skill. Her dress was made from heavy white satin, with a draped bodice and sweetheart neckline. The full skirt skimmed her hips and flared as it reached the floor, trailing a few feet behind her. The back of the dress cut away to a point halfway between her shoulder blades and waist.*

"For as sensible as you seem most of the time, you're very daring with your dress choices!" Louisa exclaimed when Hermione came out of the dressing room. "But it is gorgeous!" she added. Minerva agreed, albeit less enthusiastically. She had been much quieter than usual since Hermione's birthday party a few months earlier. Hermione wished that she would just make up with Philippe, but she doubted that she was one to give relationship advice at the moment.

"I knew what I wanted. It's my wedding, and I don't have any future in-laws to impress," Hermione shrugged, grinning a little.

"I'm a little envious," Louisa laughed. "I love Jason's mother, but she is always giving advice, telling me how to be a good wife and asking me why I'm not already pregnant. 'You've been married for almost six months! I want to see my grandchildren before I die!'" Louisa mimicked.

Minerva was uncharacteristically silent during this exchange. Noticing her friend's discomfort, Hermione suggested that Louisa and Minerva go over to Madam Benton's, Madam Malkin's precursor, she assumed, to try on their dresses for the Yule ball in two weeks' time, the premiere social event of the year, according to Louisa. Although neither Jason nor Louisa worked at the Ministry, Jason's family had relatives in the Ministry and Wizengamot, which merited him an invitation.

Hermione quickly changed out of her wedding dress, praising Mr. Darner for his exemplary work. She wondered idly why he hadn't still been in business by the time she attended Hogwarts. She made her way down the street to the dress shop. Louisa and Minerva were just paying for their dresses.

"I'll just be a minute," she told them, going to the back of the store to get her own dress from the assistant. Louisa soon left the other two, having planned on going out to dinner with her husband. Minerva continued on with Hermione to her flat.

Hermione hung her dress in her closet before going out to make some tea for herself and her friend. There was an awkward silence as she set the tea service upon the table.

"How have you been?" Hermione finally asked. "I've barely seen you these last few months."

"Do you even need to ask?" Minerva replied bitterly. "I know I made a mistake, and it's obviously too late to fix it. He barely spared me a glance at your birthday party."

"He will be at our wedding," Hermione said. "You could try talking to him then."

"I don't see the point," Minerva shrugged, affecting an air of nonchalance. "He'll probably be bringing some witch with him from France. I suppose I should try to find a date, too," she considered.

"If you want," Hermione answered tentatively.

"I had better start looking, then. I wouldn't want the dress you chose to go to waste. It's not often that bridesmaids get decent-looking dresses," she joked.

"I'm glad you approve of my taste," Hermione smiled.

"I agree with Louisa. It's daring, but gorgeous," Minerva quoted.

"Oh, please. I saw the dress you picked out for the Ministry's Yule Ball. I'm not that much more daring than you!"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Minerva laughed. Hermione was pleased that she had finally gotten more than a small smile out of her friend.

They talked companionably for a few minutes longer before planning to meet before the Yule Ball, maintaining the tradition they had begun over a year before at the Halloween Masque.

The days leading up to the ball spun by at a dizzying rate. The Ministry official was hired, the deposits paid, and the venues booked. Hermione found herself exceedingly relieved that she had saved most of the money she had brought with her through the portal. She shuddered at the thought of paying for everything out of her, and to a lesser extent, Tom's, salaries. All too soon, Hermione was Floo-ing over to Louisa's house. She was greeted by Jason, who directed her to Louisa's dressing room and summoned a House Elf to carry her dress and bag, much to Hermione's dismay.

Minerva was already putting on her dress when Hermione entered the room. Hermione was still slightly astounded that Minerva had chosen such a dress without coercion. Although the draped neckline was modest, the back was cut in a deep V slightly below her waistline and the whole bodice was form-fitting down to her hips. The colour itself was sure to attract attention, a deep blood red that set off Minerva's "Snow White" complexion and scarlet lips. Louisa's plum strapless ball gown set off her light blonde hair to perfection. It was covered in lace that only Louisa could pull off, in Hermione's opinion. Hermione had chosen a more traditional black dress with wide, slightly off-shoulder straps and a full A-line skirt.

By the time they had finished getting ready, the ball had officially started. While this irritated the obsessively punctual Minerva and Hermione, Louisa insisted that it was necessary in order to make their entrances noticeable.

"You don't want to be the ones standing by the punchbowl by yourselves for an hour, do you?" she had asked.

The three descended downstairs to the foyer to meet their respective escorts, all dressed in the usual black dress robes, although Tom had chosen worn a silver brocade waistcoat instead of white. Minerva had been asked to the ball by a co-worker who had been two years ahead of them at Hogwarts, Matthew Green. The former Ravenclaw was handsome enough with his sandy hair, hazel eyes, and tall, wiry build, but he was also extremely quiet and tended to stumble over his words. When standing alongside Jason and Tom, he definitely had the least presence.

Minerva brushed by her date to the Floo.

"Are you coming?" she asked, a smile pasted on her face. Hermione almost felt sorry for Matthew, but figured that he must have know about Minerva's relationship with Philippe, so it was his own fault. She exchanged a glance with Louisa, who made a small commiserating face before returning to her usual effervescent self.

Minerva went through the fireplace, followed by her date. Louisa and Jason went next, since Hermione had busied herself with straightening her fiancé's tie.

By chance, Tom and Hermione entered the ballroom between songs and during a lull in conversation, resulting in the attention of most of the room being fixed upon them. The spell was broken when Thomson walked over to greet Hermione, sans partner.

"Auror Granger, I've been waiting for you," he said. "Several of my former colleagues have been asking about you. I won't get any peace all evening if I don't introduce you."

Hermione smiled apologetically at Tom before allowing herself to be guided to a group of rather grizzled men at one side of the room.

After removing his focus from Hermione, Tom quickly noticed the scrutiny of Minister Purgen and a few other extremely well-dressed wizards, including one Setheus Malfoy. He walked over to them slowly, his pride and heritage evident in his gait.

"Minister, Mr. Malfoy," he said coolly, inclining his head slightly in greeting.

"Mr. Riddle, it has been some time," Setheus replied. "I have heard of your impending nuptials. I must congratulate you on your choice of bride," he continued, a hint of disgust creeping into his voice.

"She is the most powerful witch I have ever met, and far from unfortunate in looks. And she has agreed on a soul bond, the _Âme__ de__ l'amour__ éternel_, rather impressive devotion, wouldn't you say?" Tom challenged the older man, expressionless.

"Indeed, such loyalty is rare," Purgen interjected gratingly, irritated at having been virtually ignored by the other two wizards.

"I must get back to my fiancée, if you will excuse me," Tom said, his tone showing none of the subservience of his words. Tom made his way around the edge of the ballroom to where Hermione was still talking with Thomson and men that Tom assumed to be the retired colleagues to whom Thomson had referred.

"-youngest Auror in decades," one exclaimed. "And a woman, to boot! You must be very proud of yourself. Ah, who's this?" he indicated Tom, who had come to stand behind Hermione.

"Tom Riddle, sir," he introduced himself, with a charming smile. "Please excuse me, but I've come to steal my fiancée away for a dance," he said, extending his arm to Hermione, who was all too ready to leave her present company.

"No trouble at all, my boy," another said. "I'd be doing the same if I were eighty years younger," he winked.

"Thank you," Hermione said, once they reached the dance floor, relief evident. "I could barely stand all the questions about how a young female was holding up under Auror training."

"I was being congratulated by the Minister and Setheus Malfoy on our engagement," Tom countered. "I might have preferred your conversation partners to them," he murmured close to her ear, smirking, before leading them into a waltz.

"I'm impressed; the music is only one hundred years behind Muggle music. From what I know of the Ministry, I was expecting to have to attempt dancing the pavane or galliard," Hermione said after a few moments. Tom spun her around, then replied.

"I'm sure the musicians would be more than willing if you requested them," he nodded toward the small orchestra, of which most of the members appeared to be in or rapidly approaching their dotage.

"I think I vastly prefer the waltz," she laughed, the sound ringing across the ballroom. They danced through the next song before they were interrupted.

"Do you mind if I cut in?" a voice intruded. Hermione turned to meet the icy gaze of Setheus Malfoy. "I've been looking forward to meeting your beautiful fiancée all evening."

"Of course," Tom stepped aside, maintaining a facade of politesse. He squeezed Hermione's hand once between moving off the floor.

"So, you are the famous Miss Granger," the tall blond mused. "I must admit, if I didn't know who you were I might have thought you a Pureblood. I can definitely see why Mr. Riddle feels the urge to marry you."

"We are both in the lucky position of being able to marry where we wish," Hermione replied calmly, refusing to rise to his bait.

"Some might say that Mr. Riddle could do better, considering his breeding," he needled, an unpleasant smile upon his face.

"Tom and I are very well suited, both in temperament and prospects," Hermione said saccharinely. "Since neither of us are required to produce Pureblood heirs to carry on our family dynasties, our marriage will be based on mutual respect and affection, rather than more mundane concerns."

"I'm sure," the Malfoy patriarch sneered, more than aware of what Hermione was implying.

The dance soon ended. Hermione began walking over to the refreshments when she was intercepted by Alphard Black.

"Hermione, how are you? Since you finished training in October, I haven't seen you! Do you have time for a dance?"

Hermione looked around, trying to see Tom. He was talking with a group of people she didn't know and seemed to be engrossed in the conversation.

"All right," she accepted, allowing herself to be drawn back to the dance floor.

"I can't believe that you'll be married in only a few weeks," Alphard sighed. "I always figured you for one to wait a few years before making such a big decision."

"As an Auror, you know how unsure the future can be, Alphard," she reprimanded gently. A confession of anything beyond friendship was the last thing she wanted. It had been hard enough to keep Tom calm when he found out Alphard was invited to the wedding. "I want to spend my life with Tom. I have no reason to wait," she lied, ignoring the many reasons she had not to marry Tom.

"As long as you're happy," Alphard gave up. "What is going on over there?" he asked suddenly, turning them around so Hermione could see. Hermione lifted a hand to hide her shock. Minerva was dancing with Abraxas Malfoy directly in front of the entrance, where Philippe stood with a tall blonde witch, looking furious.

Minerva was oblivious to him, and surprisingly enough, was even laughing at something Abraxas had said. Setheus Malfoy looked on, appearing neither pleased nor displeased. Apparently, he considered Minerva at least suitable for a dance partner. Finally, Minerva caught sight of the new arrivals. She stiffened for a moment, but then returned her full attention to her partner, smiling at him. Hermione was surprised to see Minerva's smile mirrored on Abraxas' face, possibly genuinely. She sneaked a glance at Philippe, whose expression now contained a hint of hurt until he carefully schooled his features into a semblance of indifference and turned to his date.

Once the song finished, Hermione hurried over to Minerva. She was still conversing with Abraxas, who had not yet removed his hand from her bare back and was instead guiding her toward a group of young, well-dressed witches and wizards, Tom amongst them.

"Minerva, are you all right?" she asked, inaudible to Abraxas.

"Of course, why wouldn't I be?" Minerva replied brightly. "Abraxas was just going to introduce me to some of his friends."

By now, Alphard had caught up with his erstwhile partner and placed a restraining hand on her arm when she started to say something else to her friend.

Hermione glared at him as Minerva slipped away with the blond.

"She will be fine," Alphard said. "While I don't like most of them, they wouldn't do anything to her in the middle of a room full of Aurors. And though I hate to admit it, I haven't seen Abraxas so smitten with a witch in my entire life."

"Oh, please," Hermione scoffed. "She's not rich or a Slytherin. It doesn't matter how 'smitten' Abraxas is."

"We do marry into other houses, as well as graduates of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang," Alphard replied, mildly offended. "And you're marrying a Slytherin. There's nothing wrong with her dancing with one."

Tom had been watching the whole exchange from the corner of his eye as he spoke with various dignitaries and the scions of old Pureblood families, excluding Abraxas Malfoy. It had been difficult to restrain himself when he saw Alphard approach Hermione, especially when he caught a glimpse of Alphard's veritably lovesick expression. Soon after Minerva and Abraxas joined the conversation, he went to reclaim Hermione from Alphard.

As he danced once more with his fiancée, Tom asked her what they had been talking about so intently.

"Minerva was dancing with Abraxas," she said exasperatedly.

"So? You're dancing with me."

"Minerva is still in love with Philippe but refuses to do anything about it. Philippe was very upset when he saw her with Abraxas. If she would just talk to him, I think they could reconcile."

"They'll both be at our wedding," Tom soothed her. "Maybe they will talk then." In truth, he couldn't have cared less, but he didn't want Hermione to become upset with him as well.

The remainder of the evening passed without further conflict. Hermione danced most of the dances with Tom and, to Hermione's dismay, Minerva did the same with Abraxas, ignoring Philippe and only dancing with Matthew as much as politeness required.

Hermione could only hope that Abraxas wouldn't become Minerva's "plus one" in three weeks.

Over the course of the evening, Tom had received no fewer than three intimations of a possible betrothal with various Pureblooded witches, including one Morgana Lestrange, whom he vaguely remembered from the dinner at the Malfoy townhouse. He was slightly flattered, but only because it showed the respect the Pureblooded elite had for his heritage, something that would be easy to manipulate when the time came. However, having Hermione tied to him was much more expedient than gaining immediate wealth.

Tom considered encouraging Abraxas in his suit with Minerva. Having Hermione's best friend tied to the Malfoy family could be very beneficial. Hermione's loyalty wouldn't allow her to abandon Minerva, which would bring him into closer contact with the Malfoy heir. Setheus couldn't live forever, after all, and Abraxas had seemed more indifferent to Hermione than hostile. In time, he could prove a valuable ally. But for now, Tom needed to keep Hermione happy: things would be changing soon enough.

*From Priscilla of Boston STYLE 4119. Go to priscillaofboston dot com and enter the style number in the upper right corner if you want to see photos.

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AN: I know I just had a super review chapter, but it would be very encouraging to get reviews for this chapter, too. I have five classes this semester and have been swamped with work. I've also been trying to find an "accredited" beta to prepare for an eventual post on GrangerEnchanted. On the plus side, this has resulted in me putting together a rough summary for the rest of the story (no, Hermione doesn't die, I was joking), but I still need to write it out.


	42. Bonding of Souls

Chapter 42 – Bonding of Souls

_**Disclaimer:**_ All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Please read the VIP AN at the end!**

**

* * *

**Hermione dreamed the night before the wedding.

_She was once more at Hogwarts, standing over Harry's body. Catalysed into action by the sounds of battle, she grabbed Gryffindor's sword and began to swing it toward the locket. Just as the steel point contacted the pendant, her muscles froze. _

"_How many more times are we going to have to go through this, Hermione?" a voice hissed next to her ear. Voldemort stepped around to face her. "How much longer will you continue your attempts to destroy me?" he asked, glacial breath rushing across her face. He flicked his wand and she dropped her weapon as the metal quickly became white-hot, causing her to bite her lip bloody in pain._

_His cool hands took her own and ran over the burnt skin gently, his physical actions in stark contrast to the magical harm he had just inflicted upon her. Slowly, the pain faded and the burns disappeared. _

"_If you remain true to me, I will care for you," he promised, drawing her resisting body against him. "You are already mine. Give up," he cajoled, stroking his hands softly up and down her tense back. _

"_I can't," she murmured into his chest, shoving him away. She kicked the locket onto the fallen sword, hoping that it would be enough. The gold melted away, coating the blade. Voldemort screamed in rage and anguish. _

"_You still think you can kill me, Hermione?" he asked viciously. His features began to shift like molten wax. Dark hair grew from his scalp and his skeletal frame broadened as muscle formed upon his bones. Seconds later, Hermione was looking at her fiancé, except for the eyes that remained red and snake-like. _

"_You do still love me, don't you, Hermione?" he pleaded. "We were going to be married."_

_Hermione drew in a deep breath. She hoped she would be able to maintain her focus to do what was necessary. _

"_I loved Tom, not you."_

"_We are the _same_," Tom-Voldemort snarled. "You cannot have one without the other."_

"_Then I will have to have neither," Hermione replied resolutely, pulling her wand from her robes. _

_Her clear voice rang out across the battlefield and green light slammed into the Dark Lord's chest. _

Tom sat up in his bed. He had never been one to place much confidence in Divination, preferring the Muggle explanations of dreams and visions. He doubted that this particular dream had any significance beyond his subconscious attempting to make sense of recent events, but he still felt somewhat validated by its contents. Trust was for foolish Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs, people who had nothing of any great importance to lose or gain. He was not one of them. In only a few hours, whatever threat Hermione had posed to him would be eliminated by their bonding.

The day passed in a rush of last minute preparations, allowing Hermione to push the disturbing dream from her mind. She could only imagine how horrific planning would have been if Tom had not been able to arrange to have their wedding in one of the smaller halls at Hogwarts, one of the advantages of providing Special Services to the School and being Head Boy and the Headmaster's all-time favourite pupil. The decorations were still up from Christmas and several of the less volatile Welsh red pixies flew around the pine boughs, reminding Hermione of the Christmas lights her parents had always put up in the living room every year.

They had invited only fifty people, mostly former teachers, classmates, and co-workers, since neither Hermione nor Tom had any remaining connections to anyone outside of the Wizarding World. On the whole, their wedding was the complete opposite of Louisa and Jason's, and not only with regard to preferences. Hermione felt none of the unrestrained optimism that Louisa had displayed. Instead, she privately compared her fate to that of Ovid's Andromeda: sacrificed to save her civilisation from an enemy of their own making. Hermione could only hope that her sacrifice would also save Tom from himself.

All too soon, evening arrived and the stars appeared in the clear sky. Louisa did Hermione's hair and makeup and Minerva helped her into her wedding dress and ensured that the veil was straight. After everything was completed, they left Hermione to take their places in the hall, Louisa seated with her husband and Minerva waiting beside the officiating wizard to take Hermione's bouquet of white freesia.

Hermione took one last look in the mirror, seeing herself for the last time as Hermione Granger. The wall clock chimed seven o'clock. It was time. She pulled on the long satin gloves, left the small room and walked to the doors that separated her from to her future husband. They swung open silently and Hermione paused in the entryway, meeting the silvery eyes of her fiancé. He gave her a soft smile, silently urging her forward. She returned his gentle expression, overcome by the realisation that she would soon be bound to him, the man she loved in spite of everything, forever. She floated to the front of the room, where she passed off her flowers to Minerva, who then sat down in her seat next to Abraxas Malfoy. Although not terribly pleased with her friend's choice, Hermione knew that Tom was close to many of the prominent Pureblood families and had not wanted to cause any more suspicion so close to their wedding. She wouldn't have to talk with him, beyond accepting his formulaic congratulations after the ceremony. Tom took her hands in his and they began their vows.

Before she knew it, they had come to the final part of the ceremony.

"Will you, Tom Marvolo Riddle, of your own free will, bind your body, never to desert or harm, with that of your intended, to be separated only in death?"

"I will."

"Will you, Hermione Jane Granger, of your own free will, bind your body, never to desert or harm, with that of your intended, to be separated only in death?"

"I will." A gleaming strand of golden light coiled around their joined hands.

"Will you, Tom Marvolo Riddle, of your own free will, bind your soul, ever faithful, with that of your intended, never to be separated in life or in death?"

"I will."

"Will you, Hermione Jane Granger, of your own free will, bind your soul, ever faithful, with that of your intended, never to be separated in life or in death?"

"I will," she answered, a slight tremor in her voice.

The entire room watched in awe as silvery strands of light appeared around the couple, swirling through the air, causing their clothing to flutter as if touched by a breeze. It felt as if lightning were dancing across their skin and jumping through their joined hands.

"With your kiss, may your troth be sealed, souls united, never to be separated," the official intoned, stepping back from the couple.

Hermione looked into Tom's eyes and saw something there that gave her hope. No matter what he said or did, she was sure that there _was _some part of him that truly loved her as she loved him. Encouraged, she raised herself up to meet his lips with her own. The energy that had built up during their vows dissipated with a flash of light and a rush of air as their lips first brushed lightly, then melded together.

For an instant, it was impossible for them to tell where their body ended and the other's began. After a long moment, they returned to their senses, though the feeling remained that some integral part of their beings had been irrevocably changed in the last minute. They unwillingly drew apart, not removing their gazes from each other's face until the elderly officiate tapped Tom lightly on the shoulder. Hermione glanced down at the new band of gold entwined with her engagement ring before returning her attention to her new husband. The newlyweds turned to smile at their guests and walked from the hall, unaware of the sparks of magic still floating around them. They were followed by their guests to the banquet prepared by the Hogwarts house elves, once again, courtesy of Headmaster Dippet's blatant favouritism.

As they walked through the hallways, Tom considered what had just happened. When they had kissed, he had felt like someone had injected more emotion into his body than it could possibly contain without bursting apart. Everything had suddenly seemed more intense, especially the stirring evoked by Hermione's limpid eyes and soft lips. Even now, his skin felt raw to the touch and almost burned where Hermione's gloved hand wrapped around his arm. He was bristling with magic and almost thought that it might flow out of him like water if he were to touch anything with his bare hands.

Hermione, in contrast, felt strangely peaceful. Her mind, of course, still recognised the tactical significance of her actions, but her soul held a feeling of deep contentment from the melding together of emotions and magic brought about by their bonding.

The meal passed in a blur. Later, Hermione would not be able to recall a single thing she had eaten. In what seemed like minutes, they were bidding their guests farewell as they Floo-ed or Apparated home. The Minister was among the first to leave, something which failed to distress the bride and bridegroom. Neither of them had expected him to actually come. He was soon followed by most of their other acquaintances from the Ministry, including Thomson and Trelawney, who had curiously spent most of the evening conversing with each other. Slughorn had jovially congratulated them, smugness emanating from his expression as he informed them that he looked forward to seeing their offspring in his potions classroom. Normally, Hermione would have taken offense, but her former teacher had been rather supportive during her single year at Hogwarts, considering her house, so she merely smiled and offered a noncommittal response. Finally, only their closest friends remained. Louisa and Minerva hugged Hermione tightly, Louisa giving Hermione a knowing wink and covertly telling her to "enjoy herself." Jason shook hands with Tom, followed by Abraxas Malfoy. Surprisingly enough, Abraxas seemed sincere in his well-wishing and Hermione had noted how chivalrous he had been to Minerva over the course of the evening, contrasting with the glowers Philippe had directed toward his former girlfriend during the meal, despite giving every appearance of having moved on with a beautiful blonde French girl who greatly reminded Hermione of Fleur Delacour.

Once all their guests were gone and the house elves appeared to clean up the hall, Tom took the opportunity to kiss his new wife with abandon. The edginess from the bonding had remained throughout the entire evening and only the occasional ringing of the glassware had granted him respite. Coming up for air several minutes later after hearing a soft giggle from one of the elves, Tom summoned their cloaks. He wrapped it carefully around Hermione, his fingers taking in the silken texture of her neck and shoulders, bared by her upswept hair.

"Are you ready to go?" he murmured close behind her ear, resting his hands on her shoulders. She reached one hand up to grasp his and nodded, leaning into his warmth. He led her down to the main entrance and cast a warming charm around them before opening the heavy doors. It had begun to snow since they had arrived at the castle, and Hermione looked down at her shoes with slight trepidation. Tom grinned, causing her to teasingly shoot a glare at him. He smiled and grabbed her up in his arms, walking out into the winter night. Hermione laughed joyfully up at the sky as the snowflakes fell onto their faces, catching in their eyelashes.

"Where are we going?" she asked, leaning back against his chest.

"Just through the gate," he said, purposely evasive.

"Then where?" she demanded good-naturedly, elbowing him lightly in the chest.

"You'll find out soon enough. Don't tell me the husband is no longer responsible for the honeymoon in the future?" he asked with mock horror.

She rolled her eyes. "I'm not walking anywhere in these shoes," she warned him.

He laughed again, but didn't answer her question. He carried her to the main gate in tranquil silence. Once they reached the edge of the school grounds, Tom pulled her closer to himself.

"Are you ready?" he asked. Hermione nodded her response in anticipation.

Tom focused and Disapparated.

They reappeared on a balcony overlooking a river, a large city spread out on either side.

"Where are we?" she asked.

"The wizarding district of Dublin," Tom said, setting her carefully on her feet. "We have reservations here through Saturday night."

"Tom, I don't have any clothes or money with me," she said anxiously.

"You won't need any," he replied, a wicked smirk on his face. At his wife's quelling stare, he continued. "But I asked Louisa to pack some things for you and brought them over this afternoon. We can always Apparate back to London if necessary."

"I'm sure Louisa packed everything I'll need," she said, stretching up to kiss him lightly on the lips. Before he could embrace her, she had gone through the glass balcony doors into their room. He followed her, pulling the door and draperies shut behind him. Hermione had already lit the room with a wave of her wand, the soft light gilding the satin of her wedding dress.

She turned slowly, taking in the room. "This is beautiful, Tom."

"Almost as beautiful as my wife," he replied, ignoring the mawkish overtones of his statement as he wrapped his arms around her waist. He caught her lips with his and pulled her close, then trailed kisses along the length of her neck, nibbling the delicate skin softly before returning to her mouth. Hermione inhaled softly and pressed her palms against his chest.

"Tom...I need to get out of this dress," she murmured between kisses.

"I can help with that," he smirked, eliciting a blush and a shiver when his fingers brushed the bare skin of her back.

"No...I need to use the loo," Hermione said breathlessly, pushing him away more forcefully and stepping across the room to open the small trunk Louisa had packed for her. At first, she was slightly confused by the contents: a white satin bag lay over the other items in the trunk. She peeked inside and blushed slightly. She grabbed the bag and went through the door she assumed led to the bathroom, leaving Tom in the bedroom.

Tom laid his cloak over one of the chairs, then removed all his clothing except his shirt and trousers.

"Room service," he called into the empty room. A House Elf dressed in a white towel popped into the room and bowed.

"Bring a bottle of champagne in ice and two glasses immediately," he ordered. The elf bowed again and disappeared. Tom walked back to the glass door that opened onto the balcony and stared out over Dublin, hands in his pockets. A pop signalled the arrival of his order, but Tom didn't turn around until the sound of a door opening and closing announced the return of his wife.

He turned and smiled when he saw the vision she presented. She was dressed in a long white silk nightgown, covered by a robe of the same material. Her riotous curls had been released from their pins and fell around her face. She saw that Tom had removed most of his formal attire, her eyes catching at his now open collar, rolled-up sleeves and bare feet. When she felt his gaze sweep over her body, she crossed her arms slightly nervously, unaware of the effect her action had on her figure.

Tom, unsurprisingly, noticed immediately, but quickly raised his eyes to her face.

"I had some champagne brought for us," he informed her, motioning toward the ice bucket on the small table.

"That sounds wonderful," she said gratefully. Tom flicked his wand toward the bottle, and the cork popped out, foam flowing out for a few seconds afterward. He filled one of the flutes with the sparkling beverage and extended it to Hermione before pouring one for himself. She sipped it slowly until it was gone. Tom only took a single drink before setting his glass aside and disappearing into the loo for a few moments.

He returned just as Hermione finished the champagne and took the glass from her, placing it next to his on the table. Hermione flushed and looked down. Tom almost believed he could feel her uncharacteristic shyness. He placed a finger under her chin and tilted her face upward, gazing at her silently for long moments. Ever so slowly, he leaned down to brush soft kisses across her forehead, fluttering eyelids, and blushing cheeks until finally reaching her lips.

The kiss began chastely, a simple meeting of lips. When Tom did nothing to deepen it, Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer. They had kissed many times before, and she felt no need to be shy about it. Hoping to prompt him into further action, she daringly brushed her tongue across the seam of his lips before lightly catching his lower lip between her own. Tom's arms clasped around her, lifting her up onto her toes for better contact. He then became the aggressor, nibbling gently on her lips and delving his tongue into her open mouth. When they finally broke their embrace, Tom slid the silken robe from Hermione's shoulders, leaving her in only the thin nightgown. The deep V-neck and high slits did more to enhance than to conceal, causing a wave of desire to rush through him.

Hermione warmed as she watched the effect her body had on her husband. His eyes, usually like clear ice, darkened to the colour of storm clouds and he drew in a deep breath. Unconsciously, Hermione ran her tongue over her red and swollen lips, dragging Tom's attention back to her face. She was immediately brought back into his embrace, which was markedly less restrained, his hands roaming over her body and noting the absence of any barriers beyond the single layer of pale silk that still covered her.

The warmth Hermione had felt intensified into a burning sensation that spread throughout her body. Her nerves eased for the mean time, she moved her own hands to the buttons of his shirt, undoing them while their kiss continued unhindered. Now it was her turn to push the fabric from his shoulders, allowing her to lightly run her fingernails over the toned muscles of his back.

At her exploring touch, Tom bent and lifted her into his arms, provoking a quiet cry of surprise. He gently set her on the centre of the bed and sat down beside her, planting one arm on either side of her as he leaned over to kiss her from above. She reached up to pull him down to her, overcome by the sensation of his warm, smooth skin under her hands. Soon, Tom lay half on top of her, resting on his forearms as he moved downward to kiss along her neck, creating sensitive red marks that would fade by morning.

Hermione ran one of her bare feet down Tom's legs and hooked it behind his calf, instinctually attempting to align her body with his. Feeling her increased movement, Tom pulled away for a moment to shed his trousers, leaving him in only his shorts, then settled himself above her.

* * *

**AN: Sorry about the wait! There are few VERY important things I need to mention.**

Firstly, from this chapter onward, I am writing as though Tom has made two Horcruxes, the diary and the ring, which should explain his feelings after the ceremony. I will go back and change the story where necessary, but for now, I need you to assume that he made them with the death of his father and Moaning Myrtle before Hermione arrived in 1944. I figured that if I was going to make Tom darker, he might as well have Horcruxes.

Also, I recently found a beta on PerfectImagination (thanks, Kristinny!) so I don't know how this will affect my writing schedule. There is a small possibility of another major editing break, though I doubt it will be necessary.

Lastly, I'm not sure how the next chapter is going to go. I am capable of writing a lemon, but so far, this story has been pretty tame and I'm not sure it is necessary or would even fit in. The only reason I could foresee for writing a scene that would bump up the rating is to highlight the sense of connection Tom feels as a result of their spiritual and physical bonding, which will be extremely significant later. Please let me know what you think of this, with good reasons. While I appreciate that some of you might want all the TRHG smut you can get your hands on, this is not going to turn into that type of story, fun as it may be.

Let me know what you think in your wonderful reviews! I'm getting to the point where reviews, especially detailed interpretations of Tom and Hermione's relationship, could greatly affect the direction of the story, as well as the timing.


	43. Married Life

Chapter 43 – Married Life

_**Disclaimer:**_ All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Hermione awoke just as the horizon was beginning to brighten, painting the spiky clouds in shades of gold and slate. Her arms were bare above the smooth ivory sheet, their only covering, but she was kept warm in the embrace of the man behind her, his every breath rushing across the sensitive skin of her neck. Tom's arm was wrapped around her waist, holding her tightly to his chest.

She sighed. Her wedding night had been everything she had always hoped for. Tom had been patient and caring, paying close attention to her every sound and movement throughout the night. The feelings he had evoked in her were far beyond anything she had experienced before on her own, but what she felt afterward was indescribable. She knew, of course, that it was partially due to the hormones released during sexual intercourse, thanks to her mother's description straight out of her old medical textbooks, but the clinical explanation couldn't possibly account for the connection that almost pulsed between them. Hermione was almost completely certain that it was a further manifestation of their bond, just as real as the rings wrapped around their fingers.

She lay there contentedly for several more minutes until she felt the need to use the loo. As soon as she wriggled from his arms, Tom opened his eyes. He had been correct in his guess that their bond would be somewhat susceptible to Occlumency. Hermione's every emotion since she woke up had rushed through his mind like a gale. Though he had not been shielding his mind during their coupling, he had quickly recognized the effects of their new bond. He was not so much a romantic that he would explain the difference between sex with Hermione and the various nameless girls during the past few summers in London as wholly the result of a loving partner. Every sensation had been magnified beyond what was normal or even physically possible. Tom almost wondered why no one used the soul bond anymore; they obviously didn't know about this particular benefit.

Tom reined in his wayward thoughts and returned to his consideration of Hermione's reaction upon awakening. He had known the instant she became conscious, the near-maddening tingling dancing across his skin and through the neurons of his brain. The emotions projected to him through their bond assuaged the rage he had felt at her betrayal and reassured him more than anything else that he need not worry about her obstinacy. He would warrant a guess that she loved him too much to do anything that would jeopardize their relationship, let alone send him to Azkaban.

Overall, Tom was far more pleased by the effects of their bond than he had expected to be. As long as he managed to continue using Occlumency, except during sex, since the bond's benefits were too pleasant to block out purposely, she would never know that their bond had greater depth than she had yet experienced. Furthermore, though he didn't care to examine it closely, part of him was triumphant at the confirmation the bond had given of Hermione's feelings. Ever since he had discovered her most recent betrayal, he had believed that it was far more likely that she had continued their engagement merely to spy on him and prevent him from doing anything that might advance his descent into the Dark Arts. To his slight surprise, it seemed now that her decision had been equally based upon her emotions.

Hermione returned to the room and began to dig through her trunk for clothing.

"What are you doing?" Tom asked, raising himself on his elbow to look at his barely clothed wife.

"Getting clothes for after my bath," she answered, blushing slightly when she felt his gaze raking over her, almost making her feel like her robe was transparent.

Tom stretched languorously, pushed back the sheet and rose from the bed. Hermione's blush deepened. Tom smirked at her ingenuous response, quirking an eyebrow when her eyes trailed down his body before snapping back to the contents of the trunk in front of her.

"Maybe I'll join you," Tom suggested, almost laughing at her widened eyes.

"If you like," she answered softly, looking up at him again.

*** *** ***

An hour and a half later found the newlyweds finally pulling on their clothing. They ventured out of their hotel onto Fée Street, the centre of the Dublin magical district.

Hermione had always felt as if she were stepping into the 19th century when entering Diagon Alley, but Fée Square seemed even older. Unlike London, where the shadier members of the magical community mostly remained in Knockturn Alley, beings of all sorts were represented in the constant trickle of people in and out of Fée Square. Hermione was sure at least a few of them were changelings, with their abnormally slender forms and moon-pale skin. Carvings of fantastical creatures and faeries decorated the buildings and alder, rowan and oak trees lined the central square.

They spent most of the day exploring the square and the streets nearby. Hermione hadn't been able to prevent herself from going into the many bookshops and had ended up with a rather large stack by the end of the day. Tom jokingly warned her that he would send them back to London if she spent too much time reading them.

Tom had also found a particularly intriguing book in one of the shops. Sennsik had occasionally referenced books that he had used in his research, and this was one that he had not been able to find in the department library. Tom doubted that it would provide the answer to the locked door, but figured that any further insight he could get on Sennsik's work would be at least somewhat helpful.

By the end of the day, Hermione was exhausted. She had barely slept the night before the wedding, let alone on their wedding night, though she definitely didn't regret the lack of sleep, she thought with a small smile before turning away from the view of city from their balcony to peck Tom on the lips.

"What inspired that?" he asked.

"I'm just happy," she answered, blushing at the thought of telling him what she had really been thinking.

Tom had a good idea of the direction her mind had been going, thanks to the rush of heat that had just passed through their bond, but instead of calling her on her fib, he decided to take advantage of it and pulled her back into his arms to kiss her thoroughly.

"I love you," she murmured when he pulled back for a moment. A flood of emotion almost overwhelmed Tom and he reflexively answered her back.

"I love you, too." The unadulterated happiness that his declaration brought was nearly enough to make Tom want to spend the whole of their honeymoon repeating it.

He lifted her up into his arms and carried her back into their room, closing the door to the balcony with a flick of his hand. Slowly and sensually, he divested her of her cloak and other clothing while she did the same, both eager to revisit the events of the past night.

Tom doubted that he would ever become used to the pure joy that passed through him from Hermione. Its intensity was beyond anything he had ever felt and seemed to increase every time, almost causing physical pain, a jarring him like an electric shock.

Hermione reclined back on the bed. Tom stood motionlessly under the onslaught of his emotions until his control shattered. He covered her body with his and caught her lips ravenously, overpowering the emotional sensations with the physical.

*** *** ***

The rest of their honeymoon passed idyllically. Tom need not have worried about Hermione spending all her time reading her new acquisitions. They took a Portkey to the Brú na Bóinne and the Hill of Tara in the north and spent a day wandering amongst the ruins and when they were prevented from travelling by rain, they visited Trinity College and saw the Book of Kells, as well as several other priceless folios in the centuries-old magical archives. Having been constantly in danger throughout her school years, Hermione had never had the opportunity to actually see the treasures she had read about. Tom was just as enthusiastic about the sites as she was, though he would never deign to show it, and Hermione was once again grateful that she had managed to find someone who could appreciate her thirst for knowledge without viewing her as a textbook rather than as a human being, as Ron had been wont to do.

On Saturday morning, Tom and Hermione awoke together as they had every day since their marriage began.

"We have to go back to London today," Hermione murmured into his chest.

Tom tilted her face up to kiss her. "We could stay another day, if you would like," he answered when they parted.

"No, I'm ready to go home," Hermione said decisively. "While this is nice, wonderful," she corrected herself, "I'm ready to start being married."

"We haven't been married this week?" Tom asked, stroking his hand down her bare side, causing her to shiver.

"I meant actually living together," she clarified, blushing slightly. Tom smirked in response.

In what seemed like no time at all, their trunks were packed and shrunk. Tom wrapped his arms around Hermione and Apparated them home. The remainder of the weekend was spent packing Tom's belongings and moving them into Hermione's flat.

Monday came all too soon for both of them. For Hermione, the last week had been idyllic, a release from the constant tension and intrigue of the previous months. Tom was still attempting to adjust to the barrage of emotions coming from their bond. When he returned to work, he found it necessary to use Occlumency to completely block out all emotions coming from Hermione: it was too distracting to suddenly feel exhilarated or angry when he was trying to translate runes.

The weeks went by quietly. The newlyweds adjusted quickly to living together and the unspoken truce that had been so fragile before their wedding seemingly solidified. Hermione's work as an Auror was much less intense than it would have been before Grindelwald was defeated. Tom was still nominally working on improving Time Turners, but he had made enough breakthroughs that his supervisor virtually gave him free rein to work on getting through Sennsik's wards.

By February, he had still made very little progress. The markings on the door seemed to have no logical connection to any spell or enchantment. It was as if Sennsik had been picking out runes at random. Nothing he tried had any effect on the locked door, and he had found no more of Sennsik's writings in the library. Tom was closer to giving up than he had ever been on anything, but in the second week of the month, everything changed.

Tom was standing at the door to the locked room, rereading one of Sennsik's journals, when Trelawney walked through the door from the lobby into the vestibule, followed

"What is it?" he asked cautiously.

"Someone from the Auror department is here to see you, Tom," she replied, gesturing to the man beside her.

"Do you know what it's about?"

She shook her head. "It seemed urgent, so you had better go."

Tom set down the journal, pulled his robes on over his clothes and left the vestibule, slightly apprehensive, though he knew there was almost no possibility of the Aurors being able to connect him to any of his less than forthright actions. He walked briskly to the department entrance. A single Auror waited near the door.

When the Auror saw Tom, his face took on a compassionate mien. "Unspeakable Riddle?" he inquired.

"Yes, I am he."

"Your wife is Hermione Riddle, correct?"

"Yes. What's this about?" Tom asked tensely.

"Your wife has been taken hostage. We are doing all we can to get her released, but so far-"

"Who took her?"

"We're not sure, but we don't think it was personal. Several Aurors have been receiving threats in the last few months. Auror Riddle just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time," he rambled, unnerved by Tom's dark glare.

"So you have no idea who took her, where she is, or what they want," Tom clarified.

"Well, we're doing our best-"

Tom cut him off and turned to Trelawney, who had followed him from his office.

She pre-empted him. "Take as much time as you need."

He nodded his thanks and walked back toward the vestibule, where he placed the journal he had dropped in the pocket of his robes. Satisfied that he was alone, he fully opened the connection between them for the first time since their wedding. His mind was immediately flooded by Hermione's anger and fear. He almost staggered under the intensity: the emotions pounded into his head, as if there was not enough space to contain them. But only seconds later, the fear calmed. He could almost hear her realisation of his presence in her mind, and the relief and love that came along with it. He prodded further into her consciousness, hoping to find some hint of where she was, but found nothing.

Suddenly, her fear returned, stronger than it had been before.

"_Tom!"_ He felt, rather than heard, her cry. Then the connection was abruptly cut off. He attempted to reach her again, but the burn of the ring on his finger brought him back. He recalled the enchantment he had placed on it months earlier. He would be able to Apparate to her, even if he didn't know where she was, assuming she was still alive.

Unable to countenance the thought of her death, Tom forcibly pushed it from his mind. He would find her and kill whoever was responsible. She was his and she loved him, more than anyone else ever had in his entire life. He wouldn't, couldn't lose that. He almost ran out of the Ministry, unaware of the door that was cracked open behind him. He Apparated to the Gaunt hut, pulled up the rotting boards in one of the corners and drew the Disillusioned box from the hole beneath. He opened it and wrapped the Invisibility Cloak around him. Grasping his wand, he focused on the image of Hermione and almost immediately felt the sensation characteristic of Apparation.

He found himself in a dark room, the dank air stale around him. As his eyes adjusted, he saw the slight form huddled motionlessly on the stones before him. He rushed over to it and knelt, pushing the cloak back around his shoulders. It was Hermione. He placed his fingers on her neck and bent over her head, waiting anxiously to feel her breath or heartbeat. Tom could not remember ever feeling more relieved than he did when he felt her weak pulse underneath his fingertips. Looking around cautiously, he cast a dim _Lumos._ Her hair was matted with dark blood, presumably the cause of her unconsciousness.

Footsteps sounded outside the room.

Tom immediately pulled her against him and wrapped the cloak around both of them. The heavy door creaked open. A tall figure was outlined by the dim light outside the room.

"Awake so soon?" he asked with a malicious cackle. "I thought you would be out for at least a few hours. Now, where are you?" He entered the room, peering into the darkness. Unable to see, he cast _Lumos_ and looked around. "Hmm, maybe you know a few more tricks than I thought. I know you're here, so why don't you come out? You won't be able to escape, even if I can't see you." When there was no response, the wizard began casting various spells to all corners of the room. Just as they were about to be hit by a Stunner, Tom cast a Shielding Charm, causing the red beam to bounce off and almost hit their attacker.

"Wha-"

Tom didn't give him a chance. He threw off the cloak and cast the Magic-Severing Curse, the same one he had attempted on Hermione in their first Defence Against the Dark Arts class.

Not realising what had happened, the wizard yelled out, _"Crucio!"_ When nothing happened, he tried again.

Almost lazily, Tom bound him and Summoned his wand. The other wizard began to look at him with trepidation.

Tom had never felt as enraged as he did at that moment. This vermin had threatened something of his. He would have liked nothing better than to Avada him, but he doubted he would be able to explain that away.

"I have a few questions for you," he said, circling his prey. "First, who are you?"

"I'm not telling you," he sneered.

"You will tell me," Tom assured him. "What shall it be, then? I could _Imperio _you.." He bent down to murmur in his captive's ear. "But I've always preferred _Crucio, _myself. It's so much more...personal."

"You Aurors would never dare use an Unforgivable," the wizard retorted.

"Perhaps they wouldn't, but then, I am not an Auror. However, you are in luck. My wife, whom you abducted, would be rather upset with me if I used an Unforgivable on you, you I will have to come up with something else. Maybe you would prefer a Muggle form of torture. I've always felt that having ten fingers was rather redundant," he continued conversationally.

The wizard stared resolutely forward.

"I was hoping you wouldn't tell me," Tom said, smiling savagely. Casting a quick _Silencio_, he began.

"_Legilimens_!" Tom broke into the wizard's mind, not even attempting to hide his presence. Instead, he tore through his memories, ripping out the names and faces of his other victims and accomplices. At first, his victim screamed silently, but by the end, he was motionless. When he finally withdrew, a trickle of blood was running from the wizard's ear.

"Well, Mortimer, wasn't that enjoyable?" Mortimer didn't respond and continued staring at the blank wall, pupils fully dilated.

"Tom?" Hermione called weakly. He quickly moved to her side, gathering her in his arms.

"Are you all right?"

"I think so. What happened to him?" she asked, looking over at the unmoving body of her captor.

"We can talk about it later. I need to get you to St. Mungo's."

"But what if there are others?"

"You were his only prisoner and he was working alone," Tom assured her. "The Aurors will come and get him once I've got you out of here."

He helped Hermione to her feet and held her until she steadied.

"Where is your wand?" he asked.

"I think he took it." Tom pointed his wand at the ruin of a man in the centre of the room and cast a Summoning Charm. Hermione's wand flew through the air into his hand. He passed it to her.

"Are you ready to go?" he asked gently. She nodded, and he Apparated them away.

AN: This is slightly shorter than usual, but I felt it was a good place to stop. Tom did several things in this chapter that will raise questions. If you review and request it, I am willing to send you a hint about the contents of the next chapter or about the overall direction of the story. Please specify which one. Of course, this means that you will need to either give me a signed review or at least leave your email address.

Sorry about the wait, but as I said last chapter, I've been working on editing from the beginning with my fabulous beta, kristinny, so that has been getting more of my attention. I'm also 20,000 words into another HP fic, but I probably won't be posting it for a few months. I learned my lesson about editing with this beast...


	44. Fallout

Chapter 44 – Fallout

_**AN: It's been a while since I updated this quickly, hasn't it? I am rather unsure about Hermione's characterisation in this chapter, so any suggestions would be greatly appreciated. That being said, please review! We are nearing the end, and any extra motivation is helpful. **_

_**Disclaimer:**_ All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Their arrival at St. Mungo's went almost unnoticed. Hermione was quickly taken to a room where she was diagnosed with a mild concussion. The Mediwizard fed her several potions and she was released with instructions to stay home a few days.

Meanwhile, Tom had used his few solitary minutes while he waited for Hermione to first place a glamour on the Invisibility Cloak, then send an owl to Thomson informing him of Hermione's rescue. Just as the couple was preparing to Floo home from the hospital, two Aurors appeared, requesting that Tom and Hermione go to the ministry to answer a few questions about Hermione's abduction.

Tom frowned in displeasure, but Hermione quickly agreed and they were soon seated in Thomson's office.

"Where did you find her?" the Head Auror asked Tom.

Tom actually had no idea. He looked toward Hermione. "I think I was taken to the outskirts of Liverpool," she answered. "Tom didn't actually see anything except the room where I was been held."

"But you Apparated to her, correct?" He looked at Tom sharply.

"Yes, but it was only possible because of the bond from our marriage," Tom replied. "I was lucky that the wizard wasn't in the room when I arrived."

"So you left without even seeing him?" Thomson sounded distinctly disappointed.

"No, he came in just I was preparing to Apparate away with Hermione. I incapacitated him and left. Hermione was awake by then."

"Would you be able to Apparate back with an Auror so that we can apprehend him?"

"I could, but right now, I would like to get Hermione home."

"No, Tom, you should take them," Hermione interrupted. "I can take the Floo home, I feel much better already."

"Are you sure?" Tom asked, searching her face.

She nodded.

"I'll have an Auror escort her home," Thomson told Tom.

Less than fifteen minutes later, Tom was once again in the small, dark room where he had found Hermione.

"There he is," Tom said, indicating the comatose wizard on the floor.

"Is he alive?"

"He should be."

The Auror recast the Binding Curse, not wanting to take the chance that the wizard might wake up while he checked his vitals.

"He's alive," the Auror pronounced, rising from his crouched position. "I'll take him back to the Ministry. Someone might be by to ask you a few questions in the next day or two, but for now, you are free to go."

"Thank you."

Tom wasted no time in Apparating to their flat. He hung the altered cloak on a hook near the door. He would return it to its hiding place later. He doubted that Hermione had noticed it, since she had been unconscious almost the whole time he was there.

He walked to the living room, expecting to find Hermione relaxing, but instead, she was pouring over several books.

"I don't think that's was the Mediwizard had in mind when he told you to stay home a few days," he said lightly.

"Probably not."

Tom was discomfited by the cold tone of her voice. This was not the response he had expected.

"What's the matter?" he asked, sitting beside her and glancing at the book she was bent over. "And why are you reading about soul bonds?" He was beginning to feel apprehensive. For once, he hadn't considered the full ramifications of his actions, and it appeared that Hermione may have noticed exactly what he had hoped she would miss.

"I thought that I understood how our bond worked," she replied, "but I'm starting to think that I had no idea."

"Why do you say that?"

"Enough, Tom," she bit out, meeting his eyes. "I know."

Tom felt cornered. "Know what?"

She stood and moved to the window, facing away from him. "I know that you stole the Cloak of Invisibility from me. I know that you have all of the Deathly Hallows. I know that you have purposely blocked our bond ever since we married. Is there anything else that you think I should know?" she asked bitterly, spinning to face him.

He was silent.

"I thought not. When we got married, I was so sure that it would be a new beginning. You would _know_ how I felt, so you would be able to trust me, despite my earlier deceptions. But my love wasn't enough for you, was it? I wanted to believe that it would be, but it wasn't. Instead, you used it to manipulate me, to help you lie to me. I have no idea what you want or how you feel about me. For all I know, you planned to have me captured."

Tom was inexplicably hurt by this accusation. It must have shown on his face because Hermione smiled painfully, obviously not believing that his expression was genuine.

"I saw what you did to that wizard, you know, I had woken up. Would you have done that to me, if I hadn't gone along with everything you wanted, keeping your secrets? What would you do if I told you that I was going to go to Thomson and tell him everything you have done, how you killed your father, released the basilisk from the Chamber of Secrets, and lied about the Deathly Hallows?"

"You wouldn't," Tom replied, slight anger creeping into his voice.

"You're right, I wouldn't. I loved you, and that still means something to me. But I can't keep pretending any longer. It's over. Maybe you will become Lord Voldemort, maybe you already have Horcruxes hidden away, maybe I should have killed you as soon as I found out who you were, but it's too late now. I can't divorce you, our bond would prevent it, but I refuse to continue this farce."

Without waiting for a response, Hermione walked slowly into the bedroom.

In the few moments of silence that followed, Tom finally understood why Hermione had been Sorted into Gryffindor, despite the moves and countermoves that had defined their entire relationship. Had it been him, he would never have said anything. He would have watched for weaknesses, built up leverage should his opponent go too far. But Hermione didn't see him as an opponent or a chess piece. She had given up all her advantages, believing that some higher virtue demanded it of her.

He was roused from his reflection by a series of thumps, followed by rustling, coming from the bedroom.

She could not divorce him, but she could probably still leave him, he realised with alarm.

He opened their bond, hoping to find out without having to go into the room, but the connection was thoroughly blocked by Hermione's own considerable skill at Occlumency. With trepidation unusual to him, he moved to the closed door and listened. The noises had stopped. He turned the know, half expecting it to be lock, but the door glided open immediately. When he looked around the room, he did not see her trunk in the process of being packed, but the sight that greeted him was nearly as shocking and unwelcome.

The bed they had shared every night since their honeymoon had been Transfigured into two beds that sat against opposite walls, much like their room at Nurmengard. They were identical, except that the one furthest from the door already had an occupant huddled under the covers, facing toward the wall. Tom stood in the doorway, looking across at the form of his wife. He reached out through their bond, hoping to discover what she was feeling, but found nothing. She was blocking him, just as he had blocked her.

His expression hardened and he drew himself up tensely. Maybe she hadn't physically left him, but Hermione Granger, the girl who had married him and promised to love him unconditionally, was gone.

_I loved you_, she had said.

Meaning she didn't love him now. He supposed that he should have known better, but as she had said, it was too late now, and he would have to deal with the consequences. Tom turned to leave, but as he stepped into the doorway, he heard a sharp gasp, perhaps even a sob. He paused, then steeled himself and left the room, closing the door behind him.

Alone in her small bed, with sheets still smelling of the man she had just lost, Hermione continued to cry silently.

When she had first regained consciousness, she had immediately been aware of the cloak covering her, having spent too much time under it during her school years not to recognise it. Her thoughts had not remained on the cloak's presence for long, however, and she had looked up just in time to see Tom use Legilimency on her captor. Unlike the Legilimency he had used on her so long ago, this was a direct assault on the mind, intended not only to gain information but to also incapacitate the victim. She had doubted that the Aurors or Mediwizards would be able to do anything for the wizard, and while she wasn't upset that he was now harmless, she did wish that Tom was not so willing to use borderline dark magic whenever it suited him.

It was not until the Auror had left her alone in their flat that had Hermione recalled the strange experience she had had before being knocked out by her captor. Hermione was used to feeling strong emotions from Tom during their more intimate moments, but she had never before felt them so clearly. She had been almost overcome by his worry, rage and determination. Certain that he would be able to find her, she had attempted to assuage his worry, channelling her own emotions back to him, but the wizard who had abducted her had returned to the cell.

Hermione had reasoned that the incident was the result of their bond strengthening out of necessity. While the explanation seemed too convenient, it did make sense, based on what she had read of their particular type of bond. Wanting to test it, Hermione closed her eyes and focused on the connection she had felt back in her cell. She had found it quickly, but when she had attempted to use it, it was almost as if she had run into a wall. She had tried again with the same results.

It did not make sense. The connection would not have disappeared once the danger was over. It was almost as though it was being purposely blocked. Hermione had thought back to their wedding and the months since. The sensation she had felt while being held prisoner was very similar to the one she had felt during their bonding, when she had felt his emotions as her own. It had lasted through the night, but when she had awakened the next morning, it was gone. At the time, she had thought it was normal, but now it seemed that it was very abnormal. As much as she would have liked to deny it, she had to concede that it was very likely that Tom had been blocking their connection wilfully ever since their marriage.

This betrayal hurt far more than any of the others. Hermione had never expected that Tom would be a fully light wizard, but she had hoped that he would come to reciprocate the trust she had given him in agreeing to such an invasive bonding. Now she found that he had done exactly the opposite. Emotionally, he hadn't given her anything that required him to trust her. He had been in control of their relationship all along. Only now did she realise how unequal their feelings for each had been and were, because as much as she might wish otherwise, she still loved him. A part of her would always hope that he would someday truly love her back, instead of only saying the words to placate and manipulate her.

Tom Apparated from their flat to the Gaunt hovel, where he replaced the cloak in the hole beneath the floorboards. He took a deep breath, attempting to calm himself. Being unable to feel Hermione for the first time in months was disconcerting, and he needed to be in complete control of himself for his next task. He drew his lips into a thin line and focused on his destination.

He appeared at Grosvenor Square. There were no Muggles in the vicinity, so Tom immediately climbed the front steps of the Malfoy townhouse and rapped on the door. Seconds later, it opened and a house-elf peeked through the crack.

"Who is it?" it asked, cowering.

"Tom Riddle."

"Master is not expecting you."

"He will want to see me." Tom pushed the door open and entered the foyer. "Where is your master?" he questioned.

"Nill can't say," the elf whimpered upon seeing Tom's unforgiving expression. "Master will punish Nill."

"Do you really think I care what happens to you?"

The elf shook its head.

"Is he in his study?"

The elf didn't respond, but flinched almost imperceptibly.

Tom stalked through the halls toward the Malfoy patriarch's study. When he reached the heavy wooden door, he didn't knock. He cast a revealing spell to ensure that it wasn't cursed against unwanted entry, then threw it open.

Setheus Malfoy started, hand reaching for his wand. Upon seeing his guest, he stood and walked around the desk, extending his hand with a cold smile.

"Mr. Riddle. You were unexpected."

Tom looked at the hand for a long moment before grasping it with his own, allowing a small hint of disdain to show through his flat expression.

"I apologize for my sudden arrival. It recently came to my attention that an urgent matter involving my wife also concerns you. It seemed only natural that I would come directly to you, rather than unnecessarily involving the Aurors."

Setheus' jaw tightened. "A wise decision, Mr. Riddle, though I cannot imagine how something concerning your wife could also concern me," he replied, sneering slightly when referring to Hermione.

"Perhaps I was mistaken, but I assumed that you would appreciate being informed that a wizard in your employ was responsible for the abduction and assault of an Auror."

"Of which wizard do you speak?"

"Mortimer Charn."

"Ah, yes, I remember him," Setheus said lightly, returning to his chair. "I believe that I hired him to act as a courier for some of my more sensitive correspondence, but I hardly see how his actions outside of his job are my responsibility."

"He was your courier? That was not what he considered himself."

The blond wizard shrugged. "I cannot help that."

"Well, his mistake was understandable, considering the content of your last note to him."

Setheus looked up sharply. A flash of unease flickered across his face.

"What do you mean?"

"Let me see if I can remember correctly," Tom said, staring coldly into the other man's eyes. "_Charn, take care of Auror Granger. Dispose of her body when you are finished with her. You will be compensated double if you are able to make it appear to be a Muggle attack. SM._"

During the course of Tom's recitation, Setheus paled and grasped his wand beneath the desk, an action that was not missed by Tom, but he did not look away, unwilling to cede complete control of the situation to Tom.

"He lied to you."

"I assure you, he was in no condition to lie, and I think you will find that it is not easy to lie to me, Setheus."

The elder wizard appeared insulted at Tom's use of his given name, but didn't protest.

"So why don't you tell me why you found it necessary to 'take care' of my wife? If you do not tell me, I could very easily remember that you were the last one to see Charn before he attacked my wife and inform the Aurors."

Setheus sneered. "They wouldn't dare arrest me."

"Not even if I gave them the note you sent Charn instructing him to kill Hermione?"

Setheus laughed. "The note was spelled to combust after being read. There is nothing left of it."

"Really? You don't give Charn enough credit. He's been disabling your spells for months. It seems that he was afraid that you would start viewing him as dispensable and wanted to have leverage to make you reconsider, if necessary." Tom extracted a folded piece of parchment from his pocket. Though the wax was broken, the seal was clearly that of the Malfoy family.

"It is your seal, impossible to fake. Now, will you tell me what I wish to know, or do you require more persuasion?"

Setheus looked at the note in Tom's hand, then at the face of his adversary and made his decision.

"What did you wish to know?"

"Why did you order Hermione killed?"

"She is a Mudblood, that is reason enough, but I was also displeased with her influence on you."

"What do you mean?" Tom asked icily.

"Aulus told me about your little club, you know, the Knights of Walpurgis. I was quite impressed. With surprisingly little effort, you managed to gain the support of many of the most influential families. During your seventh year, Aulus began to complain about a transfer student and how you were obsessed with her, even though she was a Mudblood. I had planned to...help you after you finished at Hogwarts, but by the end of your seventh year, I had decided that you were nothing more than a boy trying to feed his ego.

"When Abraxas told me of your claims about your heritage, I doubted their veracity. However, you proved my doubts to be unfounded. Then you managed to find the Deathly Hallows."

"Why do you say that?" Tom asked during Setheus' slight pause.

"Purgen may have political nous, but beyond that, he has always been decidedly lacking. Purgen informed me that you needed to find the Deathly Hallows to rescue his cousin, but then Nichols reappeared without a hint of your involvement or the use of the Deathly Hallows. Convenient, I'm sure, but entirely too coincidental. If you were a Gryffindor, I might have believed your story, but as it is..."

"What does this have to do with my wife?" Tom asked shortly.

"You married the Mudblood! You threw away _everything_! I know that you are only a half-blood, but that could have been ignored if you had married a witch from an old Pureblood family. You are the Heir of Slytherin: Purebloods would have followed you in spite of your father!"

Setheus stood and paced across the room. "Most of us were too closely connected to Grindelwald to be very influential in the Ministry right now. You, on the other hand, former Head Boy, the youngest Unspeakable in generations, and the Heir of Slytherin, would have been unstoppable. You could have been Minister by the time you were thirty and would have held the position for life, with our support. Purgen is too weak to lead the Ministry for long and he will be replaced by someone of Dumbledore's ilk. It will be disastrous for the Wizarding World."

"So you decided to have my wife killed and make it appear like Muggles did it, in hopes that I would rediscover my hate for Muggles and become your new Ministry puppet," Tom finished conversationally.

Setheus looked askance at Tom's tone.

"I will warn you once," Tom continued, rising to stand before the older wizard. "I will _not _be manipulated. If you try to harm my wife again, you will understand personally why the Knights obeyed me. It was not only because of my blood."

"Then I was correct. You have chosen to put your lot in with the Mudblood," Setheus sneered, ignoring Tom's threat.

"I have 'put my lot in' with no one, but I will not tolerate your interference. If I need your assistance, I will contact you."

"You will get no assistance from me."

"Really? Have you forgotten about this note already?" Tom held the parchment up between two fingers. "And you really must see about teaching your youngest son Occlumency. You would be amazed by how easy he is to read."

"I will not forget this, Riddle," Setheus ground out, veins throbbing in his temples.

"I would hope not."

Tom left the Malfoy patriarch glaring after him.

Just as he reached the front door, his name was called out.

"Tom, what are you doing here?" Aulus asked, sauntering down the stairs.

"I was speaking with your father. It is none of your concern." Tom fixed the blond with a cold stare. Although the other wizard was the same height, he seemed to shrink in on himself when he saw Tom's expression, remembering what it had portended in the past.

Tom didn't give him the opportunity to reply and left the house, Apparating away the moment he stepped outside.


	45. Separation

Chapter 45 – Separation

_**Disclaimer:**_ All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

By the time Tom returned to their flat, Hermione had already gone to bed. Tom supposed that she might not have moved since he had left. Ignoring the feelings provoked by their row, he went about his usual routine, altered only by the new location of his bed. As he lay awake, he once more opened the connection between them. Hermione's mind was still blocked by a wall of nothingness and gave him no information whatsoever about her emotional state. He exhaled slowly. If that was her plan, there was no point in him maintaining his own block, and should she drop it for even a moment, he would be able to feel her.

Tom's mind jumped to his conversation with Setheus Malfoy. It was a risky move. If pressed too hard, he had no doubt that the Malfoy family would bring all their influence to bear against him. They wouldn't do anything at the moment, but Setheus would be watching for any weakness or mistake that would enable him to slither out of their stalemate. If he was able to prove that Tom had any of the Deathly Hallows, Tom was sure that he would be out of the Ministry and possibly in Azkaban within the day.

In the meantime, Tom would be cautious and continue searching for information about the third portal. While he already had a failsafe in place, the promise of being able to get out of the mess that was being made out of his plans was too much to ignore.

The next day, Tom awoke to an empty flat. He Apparated to the Ministry, no visible signs of the turmoil of the past twenty-four hours, and walked to the Department of Mysteries. As soon as he entered, he was met by a burly Auror.

"We have a few questions for you about your activities yesterday," the man rumbled. "Follow me up to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."

Tom was shocked, but schooled his features to an expression of unconcern. He walked back up through the Ministry, expecting to be taken to Thomson. However, the Auror led him past the Head Auror's office to a door unmarked except for a small brass plate inscribed _Auror Otto Makos_.

His escort gestured for him to enter the office. Tom opened the door and stepped in. A single Auror sat at the desk in the centre of the room.

"Unspeakable Riddle," the swarthy man greeted him congenially, though his cold eyes belied his friendly tone.

"You are Auror Makos?"

"That's right."

"What did you need to ask me?"

At this question, the Auror's eyes hardened.

"We've been having some difficulty interrogating the wizard responsible for Auror Granger's abduction. He is nonresponsive, and the Mediwizards at St. Mungo's have no idea what is wrong with him. We were hoping that you would be able to explain what is wrong with him."

"What exactly have the Mediwizards found?" Tom asked. Legilimency was rare enough that he doubted they had even considered it.

"Nothing. However, I believe that his symptoms sound remarkably similar to those caused by some of the more brutal forms of Legilimency."

Only the self-control that Tom had developed during his years at the orphanage prevented him from flinching.

"I did use a Magic-Severing Curse on him to enable me to bind him, but that shouldn't have caused any permanent damage, though I suppose it might be possible if his magic was compensating for some other problem," Tom shrugged carelessly.

"You don't seem very concerned about this," Makos said sharply. "This man abducted and assaulted your wife."

"It sounds like he got what he deserved, then," Tom replied.

"That is not the point. Using Legilimency offensively is illegal. If I find out that you are responsible for the prisoner's mental state, you will be prosecuted. Even if you are an Unspeakable, you are not above the law. But if you decide to confess, you will probably only face a small fine."

"I have nothing to confess."

Makos glared across the desk at Tom. "Fine. You may go now."

Tom returned to the Department of Mysteries, questioning what had just happened. Legilimency was an extremely uncommon ability, so for this Auror to suspect it almost immediately was unexpected. There were very few people who knew that he was capable of it, and none of them would dare tell an Auror.

A thought came to him, causing him to swear under his breath.

_You really must see about teaching your youngest son Occlumency_. What had he been thinking, to say something like that to Setheus? The only conclusion he could have drawn from it was that Tom was skilled in Legilimency, and Setheus would have had no qualms about directing suspicion toward Tom after their conversation the previous day.

In a foul mood, Tom stalked into the vestibule, fully expecting to spend the entire day trying to open the sealed door with no success. Out of a rare fit of pique, he fired a Blasting Spell at the door. The door slammed open, banging against the interior wall of the room.

For a moment, Tom could hardly believe what had happened. Only yesterday, the door had been impenetrable, just as it had been since Sennsik's death. He peered into the newly accessible chamber. It was completely dark. Casting a Lighting Charm, Tom carefully entered.

This room was nowhere near the size of most of the other chambers. His wand illuminated the entire room. Satisfied that there was nothing dangerous, Tom conjured a ball of light to float above him in the centre of the room. He looked around, taking in dust and cobwebs covering the tables. He stepped up to one and glanced into the cauldrons sitting upon it, sniffing cautiously. He caught a whiff of parchment and a familiar floral scent, along with the rancid odour of spoiled Amortentia. He snorted. What Unspeakable would bother with making Amortentia?

He strode over to the other table, the only other thing in the room. This table was covered by sheaves of parchment and numerous books. He opened one and immediately recognized the handwriting as Sennsik's, but the date in the corner was far later than those of the journals he had gotten from the department library. The first entry was from only a few months before Sennsik's death. After perusing the journal for only a few minutes, Tom tossed it back on the table. It detailed Sennsik's personal life far more than any useful research. He continued inspecting the other books and found them all to be the same. Irritated, Tom returned to the journal with the earliest date and began reading.

By the end of the day, Tom had managed to get through two of the journals. Both were filled with details of Sennsik's wife's illness and treatment, along with his reminiscing of the early years of their marriage. Tom was tempted to give up, but he couldn't believe that Sennsik would have gone to so much trouble warding the door were there nothing of value behind it.

Tom left the room, closing the door behind him and locking it. He stood in the vestibule for a long moment looking at the plain black door. He couldn't think of a reason for the door to have opened. His last attempt had been unsuccessful and the Auror had called him away because of Hermione's abduction the previous day, not giving him time to try anything else.

He looked at his watch. Six o'clock. Normally, he would have been home, talking with Hermione about their days or helping her with dinner. He doubted that any such thing would be happening even if he was back at their flat. The alteration of such mundane events was almost as disconcerting as the very visual reminder of their de facto separation in their bedroom.

Tom made his way out of the depths of the Ministry and Apparated home. Hermione was sitting on the couch, scribbling on parchment. An empty plate lay on the coffee table.

"What are you doing?" he asked neutrally.

"I'm catching up on paperwork."

Tom was reminded once again how much his life had changed in just a day. They had agreed to leave as much of their work at the Ministry as possible, though there had occasionally been times when something came up that required a few extra hours in the evening, but he doubted that "catching up on paperwork" could be considered that important.

Tom walked into the kitchen and found that nothing had been prepared. Refusing to react, he Apparated to the street below. Twenty minutes later, he was back in the Department of Mysteries, reading another of the journals in his office as he ate fish and chips from the Leaky Cauldron.

The hours crawled by. The next journal was no different from the first. When Tom finally gave up, it was a quarter to midnight. He left the Ministry for the second time that evening, arriving home to a dark and silent flat.

Before he crawled into his bed, he stepped across the room and looked down at Hermione. Her face looked tense, even in sleep. He felt a slight twinge of guilt at visual evidence of her distress, but he reminded himself that it had been her decision. His expression hardened in the dim light of his wand and he turned away, not catching the flicker of Hermione's eyes upon him.

The days passed with neither Tom nor Hermione making any attempt to ameliorate the disaster their relationship had become. Tom continued working long hours at the Ministry, throwing himself into both his assignment and his personal research. He offered no excuse for his absence in the evenings and Hermione didn't ask him for one.

Hermione was greatly pained by Tom's seeming indifference, but could not bend any further. No matter how much she loved him, it was obvious that he didn't respect her as a partner in their relationship.

A few weeks later, Hermione's unhappiness was augmented by envy. She had received an owl from Louisa, inviting her and Minerva to tea. Though she was in no mood to deal with Louisa's characteristic good humour, she felt guilty about neglecting their friendship in the past months and sent back her response, promising to come.

When Hermione arrived at Wood House on Saturday, she was greeted by a positively glowing Louisa, who instantly hugged her and ushered her into the parlour, where Minerva was already seated.

"I can't hold it in any longer," Louisa exclaimed, beaming. "Jason and I are going to have a baby!"

Hermione's jaw dropped. She supposed that she shouldn't have been surprised, but surprised she was. Minerva also appeared surprised, but quickly stood and hugged Louisa, congratulating her. Hermione followed suit.

"Congratulations, Louisa. You must be thrilled," she said, smiling.

"Oh, I am," Louisa replied, pouring the tea. "But I think Jason is even more excited than I am! He's already talking of teaching him to fly and finding the best nanny and tutors. He's sure that it's a boy," she explained, laughing.

"You'll see that I'm right," the man in question said from the doorway.

"Jason! What are you doing home already?" Louisa asked, standing to greet her husband, who quickly kissed her before greeting Hermione and Minerva.

He turned to his wife. "Dad told me to take the day off, said I was useless to him until I returned to my senses."

Hermione could see the elder Mr. Wood's point. She doubted that he had accomplished anything other than informing everyone he had met of his impending fatherhood.

"Well, I have guests now," Louisa said, shooing him out of the room with a laugh. "Like I said, he's more excited than I am."

Hermione couldn't help but notice how blissful Jason and Louisa appeared. He had left work early just to see her, and Louisa hadn't seemed very surprised to see him. It was such a marked contrast to her own marriage that Hermione couldn't help but feel envious, but she quickly covered it was a smile. She could only hope that Louisa didn't ask too much about Tom, since Hermione barely had any idea what he had been doing the past few weeks.

She needn't have worried. Louisa was more than happy to regale them of how she realised that she was pregnant and the response of Jason and their parents to the news. She then began questioning Minerva about her relationship with Abraxas Malfoy.

"I heard from one of my mother's friends that Abraxas Malfoy is courting you, Minerva."

Minerva blushed slightly and avoided meeting Louisa's gaze. "He is."

"What is he like? I remember when we were third years and he was a seventh year how almost everyone except you dreamed of what it would be like to kiss him," Louisa reminisced.

Minerva blushed more deeply. "He is actually quite nice. He's also very proud, but I suppose he has reason to be. I don't like his father very much," she continued, her expression darkening, "but I don't see him very often."

Eventually, the subject branched out from significant others to work and former schoolmates. Hermione did her best to attend to the conversation, but she was relieved when the visit finally ended. While she didn't begrudge Louisa her happiness, seeing it stung, and it seemed that even Minerva had moved on and was reasonably happy with Abraxas.

Hermione Apparated back home, feeling even more dejected than she had before the visit. She doubted that she would ever have a life even vaguely similar to the one Louisa had. Not that Hermione wanted to have children at the moment or be a housewife, but having a loving relationship with one's spouse didn't seem like too much to ask, and as it was, that was something that Hermione would never have. She almost wished that she had just continued ignoring Tom's deceptions, pretending that nothing was wrong and that he actually loved her. It had been so much easier.

Hermione found herself thinking back on her arrival in 1944. She had believed that she had been sent to stop Tom from becoming Lord Voldemort. It had been her focus ever since, except for the short time during which she had thought she had been successful. Unwillingly, tears came to Hermione's eyes. She dashed them away, picking up a stack of files and sitting on the couch, resolving to continue on with her life, regardless of how she might feel.

Hermione worked relentlessly through the evening, desperately focusing on the papers in front of her. Subconsciously, she was determined to show Tom, whenever he arrived home, that she didn't need him and was just as capable of throwing herself into her work as he was, but the hours passed and eventually, Hermione fell into an restless slumber.

*** *** ***

Tom spent Saturday in his office at the Ministry, much like any other day.

Frustrated with Sennsik's mindless ramblings, Tom had finally skipped to the journal. If nothing else, he suspected it could give insight into the Unspeakable's death.

This volume was different. While Sennsik had seemed senile and eccentric in his other writings, now his words were like those of a madman. Phrases were repeated aimlessly for pages on end, broken up by tangents bemoaning the loss of his wife. During the course of the weeks covered in the journal, Sennsik's tone altered from one of extreme grief to insane determination. Then, halfway through, the writing became more lucid than it had been in any of the journals. Though no specifics were mentioned, Sennsik appeared to have believed that he had come across some means of being reunited with his wife.

A few pages from the end, a line caught Tom's attention.

"_The third is at Hogwarts! I will soon be with my Hilde again." _

Tom immediately guessed that Sennsik was referring to the third portal. Grindelwald had said that it could fulfil one's greatest desires, and it was clear that being reunited with his wife was Sennsik's greatest desire.

The next entry was dated four days later.

"_I have failed. I found the mirror, but could not pass through. It showed her to me, mocking me with the image of myself embracing her, even as I was barred from her by cold glass. I cannot go on. My last hope is gone. Only in death will I find peace."_

Tom shut the journal. Sennsik had obviously failed. It was likely that the Deathly Hallows were necessary to use the third portal, just as they had been to enter the Veil. Luckily, he was in possession of all three. The only problem remaining was the exact location of the mirror. Tom had seen many mirrors during his time at Hogwarts, but none that were likely candidates for the third portal. He would need some way to get into Hogwarts without arousing suspicion. Normally, he would have just asked Dippet for the favour, but with Dumbledore as Deputy Headmaster, it was riskier than he would have preferred. Perhaps Slughorn would be able to help him, he considered. After all, it wouldn't be the first time that his Head of House had played a vital role in his magical development.

Tom checked his watch: it was well past eleven o'clock. He had rarely stayed at the Ministry this late, and never on a weekend. Of course, Hermione was likely already asleep in _her _bed, so he supposed it didn't matter.

He Apparated home and found the living room still lit. Hermione appeared to be reclining on the couch. It was unusual for her to still be up this late, despite being able to sleep in on weekends. He placed his things on the small table in the entryway and walked over to her. To his surprise, she was sleeping. Her quill had dropped to the floor and parchment was spread across her lap and the remaining space on the couch.

He inspected her closely, not having had the opportunity for some weeks to even look at her, so regimented had their separation become. She looked tired, even though she had nearly always seemed to be asleep be the time he got home from work in recent weeks.

He critically took in her position. Her neck was bent and she had contorted her legs in a way that was sure to cause significant discomfort upon waking. Silently, he Levitated the parchment onto the coffee table and pocketed his wand. He knelt beside the couch and carefully lifted her small frame into the basket of his arms. Her scent floated about him, and it was all he could do not to bury his face in her fragrant curls. He carried her into the bedroom and twitched a hand with some difficulty, wandlessly moving back her covers. He laid her upon her bed. In the dim light, he once again took in the features of her face.

Though she hadn't loved him as much as he had hoped, she had cared more for him than anyone except his own mother and the feel of her body against his had brought to mind the very happy days that had followed their wedding. Even knowing that it was weakness on his part, he could not resist brushing his lips across hers, but he quickly came to his senses and stood. Waving his wand, he turned off the lights, undressed himself and crawled into his own bed, mind unsettled. Their impasse was wearing on him more than he had expected.

He chased his discontent away with the thought that if he managed to find the third portal, he would finally be able to have everything he wanted.


	46. Reflections

Chapter 46 – Reflections

_**Disclaimer:**_ All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended

Hermione groggily opened her eyes. The last thing she remembered was reading through a file on a hedge witch in Ireland suspected of cursing the local village. But that had been on the couch, not her bed. She looked down and saw that she was still in her clothes from the day before.

She got out of bed and walked out of the bedroom, running a hand through her messy curls. Tom was seated at the table in the kitchen, drinking a cup of coffee and reading the Sunday edition of the Daily Prophet. Hermione turned to return to the bedroom to dress, but Tom's voice gave her pause.

"How are you feeling this morning?"

Hermione looked back at her spouse, slightly confused by the question. He had barely spoken to her for weeks and now he was asking how she felt?

"You fell asleep on the couch last night," he qualified.

"Oh. Fine." Hermione didn't know what to say. Did that mean that he had carried her to her bed?

"Good." The conversation fizzled out.

Hermione spent the remainder of the day continuing to work through the files she had begun the previous evening, but found it difficult to focus. Tom's actions didn't make sense. He didn't love her, or even care about her, if the last weeks were any indication, but he had felt the need to take care of her the previous night. She couldn't think of any reason for it. The small part of her that had held out hope that Tom truly did love her was vindicated, but Hermione ruthlessly ignored it. She wasn't going to believe the fairytale again, especially not on such shaky evidence as Tom carrying her to bed.

Surprisingly, Tom had remained home. They didn't speak, but Hermione felt his eyes on her several times during the course of the day. She was relieved when the day finally ended and she was able to escape him in sleep.

The next day, Tom was interrupted during his research by the Department Head.

"Tom, do you have a few minutes?" Trelawney asked, stepping into his office.

"Of course."

"I won't bother with politeness. I thought it only fair to warn you that the minister has been pressuring me to dismiss you. In the last few weeks, it has seemed that almost every higher-up is out for your blood. I don't know how many people have asked me if you are performing up to standard. I normally would ignore it, since not even the minister can interfere with personnel in this department, but a few of the department heads closer to the minister have hinted that he is considering attempting to replace me. Should that happen, I need not tell you that you will almost definitely lose your job.

"Whatever you have done to provoke the minister, you need to make sure that it does not continue, for your own sake. I've been here a long time and have considered retiring, but your career is just beginning, and with your talent, you have the ability to reach the highest echelons of the ministry. It would be a pity to have your career over before it has even really begun."

With that, she swept from the room, leaving Tom fuming at his desk.

Setheus Malfoy was almost definitely behind this. Not that it would be possible to connect anything to him, but no one else would have had sufficient motive or power to drive Purgen to such lengths just to get rid of one junior Unspeakable.

Tom had to admit to himself that he had made a mistake in confronting Malfoy. Uncharacteristically, he hadn't taken all the possible consequences into account, having been more concerned with preventing any further attacks on Hermione, though she didn't deserve it. Furthermore, by making Malfoy think that he had concrete evidence of his involvement in Hermione's abduction, he had prompted a harsher response than his accusations otherwise would have warranted. Overall, it was probably his worst miscalculation since becoming involved with Hermione. Now, he would have to see to damage control, and from what Grindelwald had told him months earlier at Nurmengard, the third portal was the ideal form of damage control.

Tom scrawled a note and walked to the Atrium, where he flagged one of the ministry owls and tied the parchment to its leg. Only a few hours later, Tom received a reply, inviting him to Floo over to Slughorn's private quarters the next Saturday, since it was a Hogsmeade weekend and they wouldn't be bothered by any students.

Tom spent the rest of the week going through all of Sennsik's notes a second time, including the ones from the department library. If he was going to attempt to use the third portal, he wanted to have as much information about it as possible.

On Friday, Tom arrived back at the flat earlier than had been usual since his falling-out with Hermione. He set the bag with Sennsik's notes on the table in the hallway and hung his cloak. He walked through the flat and found Hermione in the kitchen, waving her wand over a pot on the stove. He stepped up behind her, causing her to jump slightly when she realised that there was someone else in the room.

"Hello," she greeted him neutrally, though she was internally berating herself for such an inane response.

"How was your day?" Tom pressed.

"Fine."

"Do you have any interesting cases?"

"No. Is there a reason that you are suddenly speaking to me?" Hermione asked, refusing to turn toward him.

"You are still my wife," Tom pointed out. "I shouldn't need a reason."

"In name only," Hermione retorted, some of the bitterness she felt at the disaster of their marriage escaping into her tone.

"This wasn't what I wanted," Tom murmured sincerely, wrapping his arms around Hermione's stiff form.

"Please let go of me."

"No."

"Tom..."

Hermione's resolve was weakening at an alarming rate. With the stress of their non-relationship of recent weeks, it was a relief to be able to relax in someone's arms, even if the sense of security was only an illusion.

"Hermione."

"What are you doing?" Hermione asked, voice trembling even as she attempted to be unaffected.

"Do you really think that I don't care about you?" he asked quietly. "Maybe I didn't show it the way you wanted me to, but I wouldn't have gone after you if I didn't care."

"I don't know, Tom," Hermione answered wearily.

"Believe me," he cajoled, turning her in his arms to face him. "Before you, I wouldn't have risked anything for anyone. I'll admit it, I lied to you, but I've never had anyone I could be honest with. Give me another chance."

Hermione looked into his eyes for a long moment before nodding once and turning her gaze away.

Tom put two fingers under her chin and tilting her face up to look at him. Keeping eye contact, he slowly leaned down, shifting his hand around to caress her cheek.

Their lips met in their first kiss in weeks. As Tom pulled her closer, his tongue brushing against the seam of her lips, Hermione felt as though the past weeks had only been a terrible dream. She succumbed to his embrace, allowing him to bring her body flush against his.

But as the kiss continued, it didn't feel quite the same. The connection they had always had before wasn't there.

Of course it didn't. She had been blocking it ever since Tom had rescued her.

Hermione stilled, causing Tom to pull away and look at her questioningly.

"I can't do this now," Hermione said. "I need more time."

Tom's face hardened, but almost instantly relaxed. Hermione didn't notice. "As much as you need," he promised.

Hermione extricated herself from his arms and turned back to what would be their dinner.

Though still cautious, their conversation the rest of the evening was almost normal. Hermione told Tom about her visit with Louisa and that Minerva was still seeing Abraxas and Tom recounted his conversation with Trelawney.

That night, though still on opposite sides of the room, the distance between them seemed infinitely smaller.

The next morning, Tom awoke to an empty flat. It was only nine o'clock, so he was surprised that Hermione would be gone already.

An hour later, as he was just finishing his breakfast, Hermione returned. Her eyes were sparkling with laughter. The sight of her was enough to inspire Tom to give a small smile in response.

"Where have you been?" he asked good-naturedly.

The alteration was shocking. Hermione's expression went from happy to uneasy instantly.

"I went out for breakfast."

"With whom?"

"A friend."

Hermione's obfuscation led Tom to what was undoubtedly the correct conclusion.

"Black," he stated flatly.

When Hermione didn't deny it, Tom stood and stalked to the door, where he threw on his cloak.

"Where are you going?" Hermione asked, ignoring Tom's anger.

"I'm visiting Slughorn at Hogwarts," he bit out. "Unless you prefer that I meet up with Morgana Lestrange." With a sharp crack, he Disapparated.

Hermione felt slightly guilty, though she didn't believe she had done anything intrinsically wrong. He would have to get over his jealousy eventually, and with the terms of their bond, she couldn't be unfaithful even if she wanted to. But once she had mentally gotten past his anger, she focused on his words.

Tom had never been one to do anything without a reason, and now that he had finished school, he had other acquaintances with more influence than his old Head of House. But Slughorn _had_ been the one to tell Tom about Horcruxes, even though they were one of the darkest forms of magic. Perhaps Tom wanted to ask him something else. But what?

Nerves beginning to fray, Hermione caught sight of the bag that Tom had left near the door of their flat the previous evening. He probably wouldn't have left anything important lying around, but it was her only option.

She tore open the bag and grabbed the book on top, hurriedly leafing through the pages. Nothing. The process was repeated with three more of the old journals. Hermione sat down on the couch in defeat, trying to think of something she could do. The bag by the door seemed to mock her, tantalizing her with a revelation just out of reach.

Unable to help herself, she stepped back across the room to the small table and reached into the bag for one last attempt. It appeared the same as all the others, until the word "Hogwarts" caught her eye just as she was about to toss it aside.

The writer talked about a "third" that was at Hogwarts that would let him be with his wife again. The words about passing through the mirror reminded Hermione very strongly of the portal she had used to get to 1944. But she had never heard of a third portal. She thought about the words she had just read.

_It showed her to me, mocking me with the image of myself embracing her..._

A memory came to her, of Harry mentioning a mirror that showed him with his parents. It had been during Christmas her first year, so she had never gotten to see it. She had always thought that it sounded like a piece of very intricate and ancient magic, but if it was actually a third portal and could do what the writer thought it could, then it was possibly the most powerful magical artefact in existence.

Tom's motivation for visiting Slughorn was no longer in question. No doubt he hoped that Slughorn could tell him where the mirror was. Another thought floated into Hermione's mind. Perhaps this was why Tom had been so determined to have the Deathly Hallows, even stealing the cloak from her. If the Peverells had created the portals, it only made sense that they would want to prevent anyone else from using them. And when she thought about it, she had had the cloak when she jumped into the portal to escape Voldemort.

She looked at her watch. Tom had been gone for fifteen minutes. Her mind made up, Hermione threw on a cloak, tucked the journal into a pocket and Apparated. She shivered at the burst of cold when she appeared outside the gates of Hogwarts.

They were closed and didn't budge when she pushed at them. Hermione Apparated to the outskirts of Hogsmeade. Disillusioned, she crept through Honeydukes to the cellar, carefully listening for anyone, she lit her wand and began searching the floor, tapping every few feet. She pushed a few crates over to gain access to more of the floor. Her tap became a hollow thud. She had found it. She knelt down and felt around for any type of handle or edge. A crash disturbed her from her task. One of the crates she had moved had toppled over, spilling countless Bertie Bott's Every-Flavour Beans to the floor.

She heard exclamations coming from above. Desperate, she cast a Levitating Charm at the floor in front of her. The trapdoor edged open. Hermione grabbed the edge and slid beneath it, allowing it to fall shut behind her. She could only hope that the employees didn't know about it, though she didn't intend to take the time to find out. Recasting _Lumos_, Hermione began to run down the stairs. She had to get to Hogwarts before Tom could go through the portal.

Ten minutes later, Hermione emerged from behind a statue into the third-floor corridor. She Disillusioned herself again, and continued on to the dungeons, hoping that Tom was still visiting with Slughorn.

Out of breath, she threw open the door to Slughorn's office, almost causing the rotund man to jump out of his chair.

"Miss Granger, er, Mrs. Riddle, how nice to see you," he said, uncharacteristically anxious.

"Has Tom been here?" she asked.

"Yes, but he just left," Slughorn answered, avoiding her eyes.

"Did you tell him where the mirror is?"

"What mirror?" he asked cagily.

"Professor, I know how _helpful_ you have been to Tom in the past," Hermione stated. "Surely you can help me now. After all, it's not like I'm asking about Horcruxes, is it?" she added.

Slughorn gulped. "He said he was looking for a mirror at Hogwarts to help with his research in the Department of Mysteries. I told him that I thought there was a mirror like the one he described in a storage room at the far end of the third-floor corridor."

Hermione turned to leave, but paused at Slughorn's query.

"You won't tell anyone about the...other, will you?" Slughorn asked nervously.

Hermione snorted in disgust and left the room, beginning to run once again.

First floor...second floor...third floor...hallway...door. She wrenched open the door and stepped through it. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dim light. A tall, gilt mirror stood at the opposite end of the room. There was nothing else there. She stood motionlessly, catching her breath. Maybe she had gotten there too late. Her ears caught the sound of footsteps.

"Tom?" The steps halted. It sounded as though the invisible person was turning toward her. Then the footsteps sped up, heading toward the mirror.

"_Petrificus Totalus_!" Hermione shouted.

*** *** ***

Tom Apparated to the Gaunt shack to get the Deathly Hallows from their hiding place. He Transfigured a bag from some nearby rubbish. Although it still smelled a little off, it would hide the cloak long enough to find out it Slughorn knew where the third portal was.

He Apparated to Hogwarts. The gates opened for him and he determinedly walked down to Slughorn's office.

"Tom, you're early," his former Head of House called when he walked in. "Not that I mind, of course."

"I'm actually here on a work-related matter," Tom replied, hoping to quell Slughorn's usual verbosity.

"Always glad to help a former student," Slughorn said, the his jolly smile faded slightly as he remembered another instance in which he had _helped _the young man before him.

"Do you know anything about a mirror here at Hogwarts? It probably has writing around the edge and is about the size of a doorway."

"Well, let me think for a moment." Slughorn made a face. "What is that smell?"

"I had to transfigure a bag for a few items, since I forgot mine back at my flat." Tom suddenly realised that the bag wasn't the only thing he had forgotten. All of Sennsik's journals were inside it. If Hermione had found the last one...

"Could you please hurry?" Tom pressed. "It's rather urgent."

"Of course, of course. As I was just going to say, I think there was a mirror like the one you described in one of the rooms along the third-floor corridor, though I can't be positive."

"Thank you," Tom said shortly, standing to leave.

"You're welcome," Slughorn replied, discomfort showing on his face. He felt that he had once again done something for which he would have to feel sorry in the future.

As soon as the door closed behind him, Tom put on the cloak, vanished the bag, and set out for third floor. He reached the corridor and began checking the rooms. Finally, in the room at the very end of the hall, he found it. While he supposed it normally looked like a mirror, from under the cloak, it appeared very similar to the Veil, a frame surrounding a dark void. He was just about to pull off the cloak to get a closer look when he heard someone call his name. He turned toward the sound, already knowing who it was.

When he saw her, he hesitated for a moment, but realising what was at stake, he steeled himself and spun around, running toward the portal.

*** *** ***

The spell missed. The surface of the mirror rippled, then stilled. All was silent.

*** *** ***

AN (or more accurately, Author's Threat): If you don't review, yes, I mean YOU, I will end this story with Tom disappearing forever and have the Ministry find out about Hermione's origins and put her in a dungeon in the bowels of the Ministry until she dies, old and insane. And Dumbledore will become the next Dark Lord. You don't want that to happen, do you?

Not that that's out of the way *dusts off robes*, I really do hope that you review. You ought to know that I was just kidding with the paragraph above (I couldn't believe how many people thought my little flight of fancy was serious last time), since I am a sucker for a happy ending, I look forward to hearing what you think will happen! If anyone guesses, I might expire from the shock!

And I know that I need to go back through the story for continuity, but just pretend that everything in this chapter is accurate for now, please.


	47. The Other Side

Chapter 47 – The Other Side

_**Disclaimer:**_ All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

"Tom?" Hermione called, her voice echoing in through the room. She approached the mirror, numbly taking in the scene it showed. Her reflection smiled, wrapped in Tom's arms, something that she would never again experience. It was too much. Hermione turned and walked from the room, Apparating to her flat as soon as she was able.

Hermione dropped her things on the floor and crawled into bed the instant she appeared in the flat, barely able to believe that Tom was gone, and even more, that he had purposefully left her, going where she had no ability to follow. If the third portal was like the first, he wouldn't be able to come back even if he wanted to, which she doubted he would, based on all the trouble to which he had gone to avoid her discovery of his plan. She reached to her finger in what had become a nervous habit, intending to fidget with her wedding ring, but her fingers only felt bare skin. She held her hand before her face and saw that the irremovable ring had disappeared, something that should only have been possible upon Tom's death. He was truly gone.

A loud crash sounded outside the bedroom. She reached for her wand and cautiously approached the door. No one else except Tom could directly enter the flat and he was gone, so the intruder would have had to break through the wards, something only a very dangerous enemy could have accomplished.

When she opened the door, Hermione nearly fainted from the shock. There, directly in front of her, sprawled on the floor, was Tom. Other than slight dishevelment, he appeared just as he had that morning before leaving for Hogwarts.

"Tom?" she murmured.

Tom stood from the floor, weaving slightly. "Hermione," he responded sharply, anger and incredulity seeping into his voice.

"You left," Hermione said, trying to understand what had happened.

"So I thought, but I ended up here."

"I'm so sorry that your plan didn't work out the way you expected," Hermione retorted, his anger jolting her from her disbelief. "But you did succeed in getting rid of me, either way," she added bitterly, holding up her left hand, devoid of any ring.

It took Tom a moment to realise to what she was referring. He looked down at his hand and saw that his own wedding ring had vanished. On reflex, he checked his other hand and found to his dismay that the Resurrection stone had been ripped from its setting. The significance of Hermione being able to see him hit him. The Deathly Hallows were gone, he knew, even before he examined the floor around where he had appeared for the Elder Wand.

"What did you do?" he asked furiously, advancing on her. "How did you force the portal to send me back here?"

"I didn't do anything," she answered coldly. "In fact, I think that the portal worked as it was supposed to, even if you disagree."

"How would you know?" he bit out.

"Fine, don't believe me. And since we're not married anymore, I'll be staying with a friend until I can find another flat, so I probably won't be here when you get back." Her face was like stone as she stared at him unwaveringly.

"If I find out you had anything to do with this, you'll regret it," he warned harshly.

"I think you'll discover that the blame for this situation rests entirely on you," Hermione said wearily, her anger having burned out. She turned away from him and stepped back into the bedroom. With a few waves of her wand, her trunk was packed, shrunk, and placed in her pocket.

Tom watched her actions furiously, but made no move to stop her.

Not even sparing him a final glance, Hermione Disapparated from the room, arriving outside the servants' entrance at Smith House. She knocked on the door and was greeted by the house-elf, Hokey.

"You is here to see Miss Minnie?" the elf asked.

"Yes, is she in?"

The elf nodded and stepped aside, allowing Hermione to enter the house. She made her way up the stairs to Minerva's rooms. When the door opened, Minerva took one look at her face and quickly ushered her in and pushed her down onto a nearby couch.

After a few minutes of attempting to hold herself together, Hermione broke down.

"He tried to leave me," she sobbed. Omitting the classified parts, she told her friend what had happened.

"I don't know whether to be happy or heartbroken," she said finally. "He loves me, or else he wouldn't have come back, but he doesn't want to and won't believe it, and I think that might be worse than him not loving me at all."

"This might sound callous now, but everything will work out, Hermione," Minerva comforted her. "If he is really that unwilling to love you, you are better off without him. You're not married anymore, so you will be able to move on with your life."

Hermione shook her head. "I don't think that's possible."

"It is possible," Minerva insisted quietly. "It's hard, but it _is_ possible."

Hermione nodded slowly, though she doubted that she would ever be able to escape Tom Riddle completely. She took a deep breath.

"You're right. I suppose our marriage has been over for weeks anyway, so there's no point in dwelling on it," she said offhandedly. "Do you mind if I stay here a few days, just until I can find another flat?"

"Of course not. In fact, I'm sure that Hepzibah will even give you a room to yourself if I ask. She taken quite a liking to me and insists that I call her Auntie Hepzibah," Minerva added with a wry grin.

Hermione couldn't help but return Minerva's grin. The idea of Minerva calling anyone "Auntie" was preposterous. As she looked over at her friend, she noticed that Minerva seemed to be in the process of getting ready to go out.

"Are you going somewhere today?" Hermione asked.

Minerva's cheeks pinked slightly. "Abraxas is taking me to dinner tonight. I didn't want to leave everything until the last minute."

"Are you quite serious about Abraxas?" Hermione asked tentatively.

"Yes, I am," Minerva answered immediately. "With Philippe, it was all fun and excitement, but once the fun was gone, there was nothing left. I was very hurt when he left, but now I think it was for the best. Abraxas accepts who I am."

"Really? That's not what I would have expected of a Malfoy."

"He's much different than I thought he would be," Minerva admitted. "At first, I thought he was just an older version of Aulus, but he is far more mature and open-minded."

"Open-minded? Soon you'll be telling me that he wants to start inviting Muggleborns to dinner at Malfoy Manor!"

"His father is much more opposed to Muggleborns than he is. Abraxas knows that we are close friends, but he hasn't said anything negative about it. In fact, he has even been complimentary toward you a few times. He said once that he was disposed to like anyone that Aulus disliked."

Hermione still didn't quite believe that any Malfoy could be so tolerant, but she let it go. Minerva was more than capable of taking care of herself.

"Why don't you go finish getting ready?" Hermione suggested. "Malfoy won't thank me if I make you late."

Minerva rolled her eyes and went into her room. As the door closed behind her, gloom descended upon Hermione once again. Moving on with her life seemed unthinkable, but unless something changed, she would have no other choice.

Two hours later, Hermione was ensconced in a room of her own down the hallway from Minerva's suite. Minerva had hinted to Hepzibah that Hermione had suffered a great tragedy in her love life, and Hepzibah had been more than happy to provide Hermione with a place to stay. When she heard voices through her door, she opened it slightly and peeked out. Abraxas was there to pick up Minerva. As she watched, he raised Minerva's hand to his lips and bowed slightly, like a gentleman from an earlier century. The smile on his face when he straightened was like nothing Hermione had ever thought a Malfoy capable of producing. They both appeared genuinely happy, or even in love.

Not wanting to risk being seen, Hermione quietly closed the door and retreated back to her bed. She doubted that she would ever again experience anything similar to what she had just witnessed.

At close to midnight, Hermione was disturbed by the sound on knocking. She grabbed her wand and opened the door. It was Minerva, still in her dress from dinner. Her lips looked suspiciously swollen and she was smiling more brightly than Hermione had ever seen.

"Are you all right?" Hermione asked.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have bothered you, but I wanted to tell someone. Abraxas and I are engaged!"

Hermione was shocked. Granted, Minerva had been seeing the Malfoy heir for several months, but she hadn't known how serious they were.

"Do you love him?"

"I do," Minerva asserted, an uncharacteristically sappy smile on her face. "It came on slowly, but I do. I'll admit, at first I only went out with him because I was upset about Philippe, but sometime along the way, I began looking forward to seeing him. Now I can't imagine living without him."

Hermione hugged her friend, glad that the dim light hid the tears that were threatening. Later, after Minerva had left, Hermione lay in her bed, tears soaking her pillow as she cried silently. She felt guilt for her envy, but it seemed that love was so easy for everyone else. But then, they hadn't been foolish enough to love Tom Riddle.

On Monday, Tom went to work as usual. As he passed his superior's desk, she called him over.

"I just wanted to let you know that you are no longer under investigation. I don't know why, but rumour has it that oversight has been told in no uncertain terms by the minister himself that they are to forget about the whole incident," Trelawney said with satisfaction.

"Thank you for letting me know," Tom responded, though losing his job had been the last thing on his mind in recent days.

The next morning, the reason for the end of the investigation came to light. The first page of the Prophet proclaimed the death of the Malfoy patriarch from a particularly virulent strain of dragon pox on the previous Sunday. Although Tom doubted that Setheus' death was truly the result of dragon pox, which usually took several days to kill its victim, he was nevertheless relieved. His most recent visit with the man had been an unmitigated disaster, in retrospect, and he was glad to be able to put it completely behind him.

For the rest of the week, Tom poured over all of Sennsik's notes, trying to discover what had caused his attempt to fail, but nothing seemed to explain what had happened. A few days later, when he was reading through Sennsik's final journal for the fourth time, someone knocked on his office door.

"Come in," he said irritably.

"Someone sent you a package this morning," the courier said, setting the box on Tom's desk, accidentally creasing the journal.

"Watch what you're doing," Tom bit out, quickly lifting the package and moving it off to the side.

"Sorry," the man shrugged, leaving the small room and closing the door behind him.

Tom opened the note attached to the outside of the box and skimmed it. It was from Professor LeRue. She wrote that she had had many interested parties contact her, both about purchasing the mirror and employing its creators. She had attached a list if he or Hermione wanted to get in contact with any of them. She closed with a belated congratulatory note on their nuptials. Tom tossed the note onto his desk and opened the package containing the mirror.

Tom didn't uncover the surface of the mirror, but seeing it caused him to wonder if maybe he had missed something regarding the third portal. He hadn't had a chance to look at it before he went through it, and examining it now might give him insight into what had happened.

He scrawled a note to Slughorn, including a few subtle threats to encourage his cooperation, requesting another visit on Saturday.

Slughorn didn't respond until right before Tom was about to leave work, and his enthusiasm had been completely eliminated. Slughorn was obviously not looking forward to seeing him again, though he didn't refuse his request.

The next morning, Tom Apparated to the gates of Hogwarts and walked through, determinedly making his way through the castle to Slughorn's office. This time instead of greeting him with an ingratiating smile, the Potions professor presented a bland face.

"How pleasant to see you again, Tom."

"Likewise," Tom answered "I'll be going up to examine that mirror again, if you don't mind."

"Of course not," Slughorn said sourly. "Why would I mind?"

Tom ignored him and left the office. Upon reaching the room on the third floor, he walked up to the mirror, purposely avoiding looking directly into it, choosing instead to examine the frame.

_Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi. _

Tom immediately recognised the meaning of the writing. He supposed that whatever he saw in the glass would be what the portal had given him. He frowned angrily. If Hermione hadn't shown up when she did, he would have known what he was getting himself into.

With that thought, he stepped directly in front of the mirror and gazed into it. What he saw shocked him, and for a long moment he doubted its accuracy. He had never thought that such a simple thing could be what he truly desired. If it was, then all of his actions in the past months had been for naught, and probably caused him to lose what the mirror proclaimed he wanted above everything else, Hermione.

His life was so different from what he had always planned it to be, but he realised that the difference was not a negative one. For the first time, there was someone to whom he was something other than an enemy or a means to an end. Hermione, who was similarly alone in the world, had forgiven him time after time, become his friend and even married him. When he considered it from her point of view, it was almost unthinkable.

Scenes from their relationship played through his mind: celebrating New Year's in the Astronomy Tower, leaving Hogwarts, sleeping together at Nurmengard, their wedding night, finding out that Hermione was missing. Even though it hadn't been perfect, it was more than he had ever thought existed. Finally, he thought he might understand what love was. Though he had said "I love you" many times, until now, he hadn't known what it represented. He had used the words to manipulate and placate. No longer could he view Hermione's accusations after her abduction as a betrayal. It was now clear to him that his betrayal of her had been far worse. In hew view, he had not only been withholding information: he had been withholding the emotion central to their marriage. Blocking their bond was only the symbol of his failure to emotionally connect with Hermione, and now he had lost her. They were no longer married. He had succeeded in breaking the unbreakable.

Though he knew that it was probably pointless, he searched in his mind for the connection that had linked him to Hermione since their marriage. To his surprise, it was still there, albeit blocked from her side.

He was decided. He would be able to find her at work and tell her that they could and should remarry. Their soul bond was more significant than any ring, surely she would see that, and through it, he would be able to show her how much she meant to him.

On Monday, Tom arrived early to work and waited by the Auror offices. When Hermione didn't appear, he reluctantly went down to the Department of Mysteries.

He spent the morning going over the specifications for the new model of Time-Turner, though only a fraction of his brain was actually engaged in his work. Shortly before lunch, an owl dropped off a memo at his office. Seeing that his name was written in Hermione's handwriting, he hurriedly ripped it open, assuming that it meant that Hermione wanted to see him. He couldn't have been more wrong.

_Tom,_

_I checked with the Registrar and our marriage was annulled at 11:32 a week ago last Saturday. I'm sure you recognise the time and date. You can keep the flat as long as you want. Please do not make this anymore difficult than it already is. _

_Hermione Granger_

Tom could scarcely believe his eyes. Hermione couldn't possibly want to end their relationship, especially if she knew how the third portal worked. And for her to sign the note with her maiden name, it was too much. He stalked from his office, intent on going to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to find Hermione. She couldn't just leave without giving him a chance to tell her what he had learned from the mirror.

"Tom," Trelawney called as he walked past her in the hallway.

"Yes?" he answered shortly, stopping unwillingly.

"Are you alright, Tom? You have seemed distracted these last few weeks." Trelawney sounded more like a worried grandmother than a superior.

"It's personal," Tom replied. "May I go?"

"Of course, take the day off if you need to," Trelawney said understandingly.

"Thank you."

Tom hurried to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. He had just reached it when he literally ran into Head Auror Thomson.

"Do you know where my wife is?" Tom asked upon realising who it was.

"She just asked me for the day off. I gave it to her, of course. Didn't she tell you?" Thomson asked, looking at Tom sharply.

"No, I must have just missed her," Tom replied smoothly. "Thank you."

Tom slowly made his way back to the Department of Mysteries. If Hermione had already left, there was little chance that he would be able to find her if she didn't want him to. All he could do was wait for her to come to him or, more accurately, stop running away from him.

Hermione had just been leaving when she saw Tom walk into the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Luckily, she had been able to slip into an empty office, preventing him from seeing her. She could have kissed Thomson when he didn't tell Tom that she was still in the department. She breathed a sigh of relief when Tom left. She needed some time to think before she spoke with him again.

She stepped out of the office into the corridor and was immediately approached by Thomson.

"Auror Riddle, I would appreciate it if you could keep your personal conflicts out of the workplace," he said. "I've heard about your husband's difficulties with the Minister and can sympathise," Thomson continued quietly, "but I won't accept less from you because of it. Take the rest of the day off, but come back tomorrow ready to fulfil your duties."

"Yes, sir," Hermione answered, embarrassed that Thomson had seen it necessary to reprimand her.

She hurried to the lobby and had just grabbed a handful of Floo powder when someone called her name. She turned around to see Alphard Black jogging toward her.

"Do you have the day off?" he asked once he reached her.

She nodded.

"What a coincidence, so do I!" he exclaimed with a bright smile. "What do you say we catch up over lunch?" he asked.

Unable to resist in the face of his effervescence, Hermione agreed, smiling back at him, unaware that Tom had just entered the lobby. Before he could grasp what he was seeing, Alphard and Hermione had disappeared through the Floo.

*** *** ***

AN: I apologize for how long it has been since I updated, but I'm afraid I cannot make any guarantees about future updates. We are on the home stretch, so to speak, but I'm also back in school, so I don't know how my schedule will be. Please review, since it does serve as inspiration. I know there are a ton of you who like this story well enough to sign up for alerts, so I would greatly appreciate it if you dropped me a line now and then! Questions, comments, and constructive criticism are welcome! And a special thanks to my beta, kristinny, who has been of great help to me as I attempt to pull all of my plot strings together!


	48. Pain

Chapter 48 – Pain

_**Disclaimer:**_ All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

**AN:** Well, it's been a very, _very _long time, hasn't it? I rather hit a block with this chapter and would have settled for something quite atrocious were it not for my wonderful beta. I hope you review, since I put quite a bit more time than usual into it. And thanks to everyone who has stuck with this story, despite the irregular update schedule!

Tom's first instinct was to chase after the pair. But as he stared at the place from which they had disappeared, he decided against it. He didn't know where they had gone, and if he wanted to convince her of his intentions, following her would not help, especially in light of her argument about his lack of trust. Of course, showing his trust was rather pointless now. Because of his actions, she was free to do whatever she wanted, even go out with Black, no matter how much he hated it. It had always been obvious to Tom that Black would like nothing better than to replace him, and the mere idea was unpalatable. Hermione's choice to leave with Black probably had more to do with her anger toward him, but even the image of them leaving together infuriated Tom.

Knowing that Hermione most likely would not be back for the day, Tom went down to the Department of Mysteries and gathered up his things, packing the mirror away and taking it with him. Upon arriving in his flat, he set everything on the kitchen table and stood there for some minutes, thinking. He could not believe that Hermione hadn't even allowed him to explain himself to her. He was trying to give her what she had wanted! He had wanted to apologize and repair their relationship, but she wasn't even giving him a chance. He couldn't understand her. His temper rose as he ruminated on both her actions as well as his own that had driven her away.

He left the kitchen and strode angrily through the flat, tossing his cloak over the back of a chair, and sat down on the couch. He yanked a cushion from beneath him and threw it across the room. It was one Hermione had bought for their flat, and the very sight of it irritated him. He blasted it with his wand and watched it explode in a cloud of fluff and fabric scraps. As the remains floated to the floor, his own ridiculousness impressed itself upon his mind.

He was angry with Hermione for being hurt and angry after he practically told her that his plans and ambitions were more important to him than she by stepping through the portal. He had expected her to forgive him instantly, now that he was finally ready to have a real relationship, despite having spent months rebuffing and taking advantage of her. It was no wonder that she was angry, and he had to admit that he deserved it. He was hard pressed to think of any way short of physical abuse that he could have been much worse as a boyfriend, fiancé, and husband. No, he had not been verbally demeaning nor had he withheld affection, at least not superficially, but he had chosen to leave her with no regard for her feelings or how it might affect her. It was hardly any different from leaving her for another person.

His anger toward Hermione died. It was obvious to him where the blame lay: with him. He could only hope that Hermione would be able to forgive him eventually, and he probably didn't even deserve that.

Tom waved his wand, vanishing the mess on the other side of the room and rose from his seat, feeling tired and angry with himself for his obtuseness. He looked around the flat. It suddenly seemed stifling, despite holding only half the contents it once had. He decided to go for a walk down Diagon Alley. Although still winter, it was warmer than usual, and he hoped it might take his mind off his own guilt.

Though his intentions, uncharacteristically, were good, Tom had only walked a few minutes when he saw Hermione sitting with Alphard through the window of a small café. As he watched, he saw Alphard reach across the table and grasp Hermione's hand. Hermione responded by placing her other hand atop his. It was too much. All the restraint he had been exercising in not following her disappeared. He stalked into the building and over to their table.

"Riddle," Alphard greeted coldly, the anger in his eyes making Tom suspect that Hermione had divulged at least a little about their current situation.

Tom ignored him and quickly turned his gaze to Hermione, who had suddenly pulled her hands back from the table and folded them in her lap.

"Hermione," he greeted, struggling to remain calm.

"What are you doing here, Tom?" she asked, hostility creeping into her voice, though Tom convinced himself that there was an edge of hurt as well.

"What am I doing here?" he quoted, his voice rising slightly before he caught himself. He drew in a deep breath. "Is it so surprising that I would want to talk to you? I've been thinking about what you said constantly."

"Well, I don't see that I have anything to discuss with you," she replied neutrally, avoiding his piercing gaze. "Are you ready to leave, Alphard?"

Alphard Black was torn. It was clear from the short time that they had spent together that Hermione was in no way ready or willing to pursue another relationship, and the care with which she had avoided any mention of Riddle led him to believe that she still loved him, regardless of whatever idiotic things the man had done to hurt her so badly. Normally not one to accept failure, Alphard decided that getting into a confrontation with Riddle wouldn't help his suit. That didn't mean, however, that he would go meekly.

He stood. "I think I'll be leaving, but perhaps we can have dinner some other time, preferably where we won't be interrupted," he needled. Driven by his desires and innate sense of perversity, he swiftly stepped around the table and bent down to kiss Hermione lightly on the cheek before leaving the cafe. With any luck, Tom would extract himself from Hermione's affections, solving Alphard's problem for him.

At the touch of Alphard's lips to her skin, Hermione froze. Things were not going well at all. She hazarded a glance over at Tom. His eyes were narrowed and his jaw clenched. Rage emanated from him, and although it seemed to be directed at Alphard, she didn't care to stay to listen to what he would say after Alphard left. .

"I should be going, too," Hermione said, moving to follow her fellow Auror.

Tom's body and heart flared with pain momentarily. His anger toward Alphard faded as a sense of urgency built within him. He could feel that he was about to lose her. He struggled with his emotions, concerned that the possibility of any future with her rested entirely on her staying for just a few moments to hear him out.

"Please, Hermione."

Hermione paused. Tom sounded desperate. She couldn't recall ever hearing such vulnerability. It was completely unlike him, and therefore, probably not actually him. She, of all people, knew how skilled he was at acting like someone he was not. After all, he had managed to play the role of devoted boyfriend, fiancé, and husband for over year, hardly stepping out of character for a moment. She had been taken in by his lies for months, never the wiser. As much as she might wish that it could be different, she would not allow herself to believe again in the fairy tales he spun so adroitly.

"I can't, Tom. I'm sorry." She hurried outside and quickly Apparated away, eyes stinging.

Tom watched her disappear, a leaden feeling settling into his chest. For the first time since realising his feelings for Hermione, he was forced to accept that she would never forgive him, let alone allow him to repair their relationship. There was no ancient tome or experiment that could provide him with an answer to his problem.

"Fuck," he murmured painfully, running his hand through his hair, not bothering to smooth it back down. He left the cafe, not caring about the stares he received from the other patrons.

He made his way back to the half-empty flat, his mind churning as he searched for ideas for convincing Hermione of his love and sincerity. Every solution was immediately met with countless insurmountable obstacles. He seated himself on the couch, arms resting on his legs and head between his hands, a throbbing headache beginning.

It was all gone. Everything that he had wanted was forever beyond his reach. The grand destiny that he had thought awaited him since discovering his lineage was nothing more than a cruel joke. His every success served only to increase the height of his fall. Against his every expectation, he had been loved, despite his iniquities, but now he had lost the thing he had not even realised he wanted. Even death would give no relief, since his remaining Horcrux ensured that he would only return as an even more tortured spirit should it be anything other than natural. His anguish rushed through him in a wave of physical pain, but he fought through it as he gazed around the room at the few things he had left to remind him of his life with Hermione.

His eye was drawn to the wrapped parcel that lay on the table. A small, desperate hope sprouted in his mind. He unwrapped the mirror and carefully set it back down on the table. Taking a deep breath, he gazed into the dark surface.

_He was perhaps fifteen or twenty years older. His future self walked down Diagon Alley, pale and ascetic, his stride never wavering and no hint of life ever appearing in his eyes. Suddenly, he flinched, the emotion disappearing almost as quickly as it had come. The scene shifted to show what his reflection had seen. _

_A woman with wild brown hair was smiling at the small girl pulling at her hand. They were obviously mother and daughter, though the daughter had black curls, rather than brown. As he walked closer, a man with black hair and bright grey eyes appeared, swinging the girl into his arms and kissing the woman lightly on the lips. When he pulled back, they turned to walk into a bookshop. Just before she disappeared through the door, the woman caught sight of Tom and started minutely, but something inside the shop drew her attention away from him almost instantly. With a merry smile for her husband and daughter, she disappeared, leaving him alone on the bright and bleak street. _

Tom wrenched his eyes away from the mirror. This was the future for which he was almost certainly destined, a future without the very thing he wanted most, doomed to watch as someone else lived the life that he could have had.

He was going to lose the thing he needed most because of his quest for power. Hermione, the one person who had loved him unreservedly, would now never take him back after all he had done while he tried to find the Hallows. He had clearly shown her that he barely valued her or their relationship at all. Now, for the first time, he was almost able to imagine how she must have felt when he had abandoned her that final time by stepping through the mirror. His hands spasmed as he clenched them, as a thread of pain spread through his body.

But he had to admit, things had been wrong long before he began his search for the Hallows. The person he was, the one who would unflinchingly inflict the worst emotional pain on someone he loved, albeit unknowingly, had been formed long before Hermione had arrived at Hogwarts. He would have liked to have been able to blame his failings on his mother's death, his time in the orphanage, and the rejection of his father's family, but he could not ignore the many chances he had had to choose a different path.

In the orphanage, he was not treated any worse than any of the other children, in fact, his pleasing appearance had made him one of the favourites of the staff before he had started taking out his anger and, though he would never have admitted it, loneliness on the other children, a tendency exacerbated as his magical capabilities grew. By the time he was eight, no one had dared approach him. At the time, he had not considered anything beyond his own hurt, but the seeds of his later cruelty and emotional paralysis had been well and truly planted before he had even realised that magic was real.

He had continued on his trajectory during his years at Hogwarts, causing the deaths of Myrtle and his father's family with no remorse, even using them to his own benefit in the creation of Horcruxes. He hadn't noticed at the time, but now he wondered whether some of his apathy toward the pain he inflicted on Hermione stemmed from them. He remembered how he had been nearly overwhelmed by emotions at their bonding ceremony and had written it off as a side-effect of the magic, but now, he considered the possibility that maybe everyone was capable of such emotions, excluding those who had purposely mutilated their souls. If so, any attempt on his part at repairing their relationship was futile, since he could never have a pure, whole soul to offer Hermione.

He felt an intense pain race through him, causing him to reflexively draw in a sharp breath and forcing all thoughts from his mind for a moment, but as it died away, his mind turned once again to his Horcruxes.

Why had he decided that he needed them? At the time, he had wanted to be more powerful than any other wizard in the world and had viewed protection from unnatural death as essential, since it was only a matter of time until someone attempted to murder him. He had given no thought to the lives that he was destroying in order to preserve his own: his own was infinitely more important, subjectively and objectively. After all, his victims would have gone on to do nothing of consequence, only create more copies of their inferior selves and use up valuable resources, or so he had thought at the time. In a sense, he, much like Grindelwald, had viewed their deaths as serving the greater good, twisted as it was, though he would never be defeated and left to languish in a tower. He was to be someone who would change the face of the Wizarding World, not a Ministry grunt with a pack of squalling brats.

But if everyone was capable of loving someone as he now knew he loved Hermione, perhaps their lives were worth far more than he had thought possible, and now, because of him, they would never have the chance to find someone to love and accept them, the thing that had himself had unknowingly longed for his entire life. Myrtle's last living memory would forever be Olive Hornby's words about her glasses. She would never grow up and discover the world beyond Hogwarts. Similarly, the children from the orphanage, even if they hadn't died, would never forget the damage he had caused. He had made them feel things no child should feel.

Lastly, he recalled his only meeting with his father and grandparents. Although he had wanted them to accept him, he subconsciously had been more than willing to exact vengeance on them. The abandonment he had felt as a child had by then transformed into hatred, driven by the suffering he had experienced while they continued to live a life of luxury and privilege. But he didn't know that. He hadn't given any thought to the betrayal that his father must have felt upon discovering that his wife was a witch and had given him a love potion. He would have remembered the euphoria and passion that the potion created, but also the horror of it being forced upon him. It wasn't surprising that they had been afraid and angry when he appeared at their door, based on their previous experience with magic. But as usual, Tom had been unwilling to consider anything other than what he viewed as the truth and had wasted no time in punishing them for their weakness and using it to make himself stronger.

The reality of what he had done was too much for him. His headache intensified and a burning feeling ran up and down his nerves. How could he have been surprised that Hermione didn't want to be with him anymore? He couldn't imagine anyone less fit for a real relationship than himself, especially with someone like Hermione. He had been doomed from the start. Someone who had such disregard for others, who couldn't even recognize love when he felt it, could never deserve a love like that which Hermione had had for him. He wished more than anything that he had chosen a different path all those years ago, maybe making him capable

A particularly strong spasm gripped him. Groaning in pain, he stumbled to his feet. It was as if all the cruelties he had perpetrated were being inflicted upon him simultaneously. The pain increased and his vision blurred as he collapsed to his knees, falling forward onto his hands. His finger felt as if the ring upon it was melting into his skin. Still, it intensified. Tom had never felt the Cruciatus Curse, having always been the one to use it, but as a scream ripped from his throat, a fragment of a thought, that his must be far worse than any Unforgivable, flitted through his mind.

It was the last coherent thought he had. His world collapsed in on him. The only thing that existed was that which pained him. Flickering scenes and sounds passed by him, centred on the image of Hermione. He knew it would prevent him from being able to beg her to forgive him, but for the first time in his life, Tom longed for death.


	49. Deterioration

Chapter 49 – Deterioration

_**Disclaimer:**_ All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

In her room, Hermione was suddenly afflicted with a pounding headache, possibly the worst she had ever experienced. She walked down the stairs, holding tightly to the banister, and went into the kitchen.

"Hokey, do you have any potions for headaches?" she asked, rubbing her temples and wincing.

"Yes, Miss. Hokey will gets one right away," the elf said, scurrying into a cupboard.

Hermione downed it the second Hokey gave it to her, but if anything, the headache only got worse. She wearily climbed back up to her room and lay down upon her bed. Consciously, she tried to relax, but just when she felt some of the tension in her neck and head ease, a stabbing pain spread throughout her whole body. She shot up, gasping. The pain died away, but she couldn't understand where it had come from. It had almost felt like it came from someone else, and the sense of despair and regret it carried with it took her breath away.

She wondered briefly if it could have come from Tom, but that was impossible. Their marriage was over and their bond broken. There was no reason for her to feel anything from him.

The pain faded to a constant ache behind her eyes but neither it nor its emotional edge completely left her. It was unlike anything Hermione had ever felt. As she lay there, she could no longer ignore the possibility that it had come from Tom. After all, she had been religiously blocking their bond for what seemed like forever and hadn't even remembered to stop after she had thought their bond no longer existed. She couldn't actually say with any certainty that it had been severed, no matter how much she wanted to believe it.

Figuring that she wouldn't be able to rest until she at least checked, she cautiously dropped the mental walls that had separated her from Tom.

The wave of pain rushed through her instantly. The desolation that she had felt earlier came back with renewed vigour. The physical and emotional anguish was almost enough to make Hermione weep. Hermione blocked the bond off as soon as she could think through the pain. It faded once again.

At first, Hermione was tempted to think that it just another manipulation on Tom's part. It wouldn't be much worse than some of the other things Tom had done during the course of their relationship. But that was too cynical, even for her. She chastised herself. Tom had never been able to actively lie through their bond, a fact that was probably the root of his decision to block it. That was why she had thought that their marriage would help them fix the flaws in their relationship, since they would be able to trust each other with every thought and emotion.

This realisation threw Hermione into action. If Tom was feeling anything like the pain that had come through their bond, he needed help. Hermione considered that he was being tortured with the Cruciatus, but that wouldn't explain the desolation she had felt from him.

She grabbed her wand from the nightstand and Apparated just outside the door to the flat they had shared. Cautiously, she tried the door and finding it unlocked, opened it.

The entryway was empty, but on the floor next to the space that had served as their living room lay Tom. Hermione rushed over to him.

"Tom?" she called, kneeling beside his prone form and gently touching his face.

He groaned at her touch, voice hoarse as if he had been screaming, but did not respond in any other way.

"Tom?" Hermione repeated, desperately searching his face for signs of consciousness. When no such signs appeared, she began to run through all the spells she knew that might help.

"_Ennervate._" The spell did nothing, nor did any of the others Hermione tried. Having exhausted her own skills, she grasped Tom in her arms and Apparated them both to St. Mungo's.

The people sitting, waiting more or less calmly to be seen, stared at the newly arrived couple. Hermione released her grip on Tom and scrambled up from the floor, intent on the Healer who had just entered the room. But the instant Hermione loss contact with Tom, he moved. She dropped down to her knees, hoping that he had awakened, but when his limbs began to jerk and inhuman sounds emerged from between his locked teeth, she realised that the opposite was occurring.

"Help him!" she demanded, even as she was nearly overcome by a rush of pain. Her words spurred the Healer to action. He Levitated Tom's still convulsing body and rushed the body out of the room, calling out for additional Healers.

"Emergency, unknown cause. I need Class III antidotes and muscle relaxants immediately. Have one of the Curse Specialists come to the Critical Ward, third floor," he directed a frozen assistant Healer as he strode past.

Hermione pushed past the Welcome Witch and followed the wizard through the halls, fighting the almost debilitating throbbing that passed through her body with each step. Her emotions were too volatile to allow her to maintain the mental barrier that had been present for the past weeks. Finally, they reached the third floor, where they were met by several other Healers. One began casting diagnostic spells immediately, while another stripped Tom's shirt and trousers away, inspecting for physical anomalies. A third took control of Levitating him, leaving the original Healer to turn to Hermione.

She moved to follow as they moved Tom into a ward, but the Healer's hand on her arm stopped her.

"Do you have any idea what happened to him?" he asked, not even taking the time to give his name or ask for those of Hermione or Tom.

"No," Hermione shook her head, almost disbelieving what had just happened. "He was like that when I Apparated to the flat. I have no idea what happened."

"Is there anything you can tell us about him that might be important?" the Healer persisted. "Any job hazards or potion use that we should be aware of?"

"He's an Unspeakable," Hermione answered, trying to see where they had taken Tom, "but this happened after he arrived home." As she finished speaking, she nearly bent in half as a particularly intense spasm passed through her.

"What's the matter?" the Healer asked sharply, looking at her for any sign of illness or injury.

"It's because of him," she ground out. "We're...bonded. That's how I knew that something was wrong."

"But you don't know what is wrong with him?"

"No! All I know is that he is in pain, worse the Cruciatus and Dementors combined. I have a barrier up on my end because the pain is intolerable. Please, let me go see him," Hermione said, jerking her arm from his grasp. Without waiting for an answer, she ran into the ward, immediately seeing the Healers crowded around Tom, who was now on one of the beds.

"He's not responding to any of the antidotes, try a Calming Drought for the seizures," one of them ordered.

"Already done, no effect."

"Is he suffering from any curses?"

"Not that I can tell. His ring gives a strange reading, but no curses."

"O'Donnell, any ideas?"

"His spasms are similar to the aftershocks of the Cruciatus Curse," he answered as he walked into the ward behind Hermione. "Try treating for nerve and brain damage."

At the same time that Healer O'Donnell was speaking, Tom's seizure ended. His body settled, muscles completely lax, onto the bed.

"Spasms have stopped. It looks like he's stable for now, but still unconscious," one of the Healers next to the bed said.

"Well, try to find what caused them in the first place before it happens again," O'Donnell ordered.

As the Healers stepped away from Tom, Hermione rushed forward, gritting her teeth at the lingering aches.

"Tom," she murmured as she took in his bloodless complexion and gripped his cold fingers in hers.

"Excuse me, ma'am," Healer O'Donnell said, "I need to ask you a few questions about the patient."

"Fine," Hermione replied, not moving her eyes away from Tom.

"What is his name?"

"Tom Riddle."

"You said that he works as an Unspeakable?"

She nodded.

"Do you know what he was working on?"

"Yes, but I can't tell you. It couldn't have caused anything like this."

"Do you have any idea what could have caused his current state?"

"No."

"I'm going to have to ask you to leave, Mrs Riddle."

"It's Granger. Hermione Granger."

O'Donnell's expression betrayed his surprise. "You said that you have a bond that enabled you to tell that something was wrong."

"We're not married anymore," Hermione said, answering the question that she knew he had wanted to ask, "but the bond is still there. I didn't realise until today."

"How is that possible?"

"Does it matter?" Hermione bit out. "Just find out what is wrong with him!"

"Can you tell if he is still feeling pain?" O'Donnell asked professionally.

Hermione focused on the part of her mind that was connected to Tom and lowered her mental walls slightly. The pain was instant. She gasped and braced herself on the bed.

"Ms. Granger?"

"Yes, he's still feeling pain."

"Can you tell the intensity?"

"Somewhere between being burned alive and the Cruciatus," she snapped, trying to block out the effects of the short connection.

O'Donnell turned to one of the other Healers and murmured something. The Healer nodded and left the room.

"I'm going to give you a potion to help with the pain. We'll do our best to help Mr. Riddle. Healer Martin will take you to another room to rest."

The Healer returned and handed Hermione a small bottle filled with a dark blue viscous liquid that Hermione recognized as a moderate pain-reliever and a strong sedative.

"I don't need a sedative," she protested angrily. "I'm staying here."

"Fine, you don't have to take the potion, but you can't stay here. We need to be able to do our work without worrying about you," O'Donnell said. "You can either leave your address and go home or stay in the Visitors' Tearoom until we have more information for you."

"But I'm the only one who can help!" Hermione argued. "No one else knows anything about him!"

"All right, but if he gets worse, you're out," he relented.

O'Donnell did not enforce his words. Only forty minutes later, Tom was in the throes of such a violent seizure that one of the older Healers had suggested that they Petrify him, even though such an action hadn't been considered acceptable treatment for twenty years. After Tom stilled, O'Donnell approached Hermione again.

"We were able to get better readings of his brain and magical aura during the seizure, but we can't find anything that could cause this sort of reaction. Can you think of _anything_ that could be causing this?"

Hermione shook her head, unable to speak for a moment.

"I hate to ask this, but is it possible that he did something to himself, something that he knew no one would be able to figure out? As an Unspeakable, he would no doubt be intelligent enough to come up with something that we probably wouldn't be able to recognize in time to save him."

"Tom would never do that!" Hermione rebutted.

"You said that you are no longer married, how would you know what he would do? Maybe he has changed since your separation," O'Donnell said, a slight chill creeping into his voice.

Hermione bristled slightly at his insinuation, but her concern for Tom soon won out over her indignation at O'Donnell's comments.

She stepped over to the bedside and took Tom's hand in hers.

"Something he could have done to himself? He would never try to kill himself. He's always done the exact opposite." She straightened the ring that had gotten turned around on Tom's hand and noticed that the stone had come out of the setting, leaving behind only a plain gold band with brackets sticking up like thorns.

"Did one of the Healers say something about his ring?" she asked, spinning around to look at O'Donnell again.

"Yes, it gave off a strange reading, but he didn't think it was anything suspect."

"Could you check it again?" she asked, an idea forming in her mind.

"Of course." The Healer stepped briskly to the side of the bed and waved his wand over the ring. He frowned.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked.

"It's strange. I'm not getting any reading from it at all now. All enchantments leave behind at least a trace of themselves, even after they are removed. Maybe the initial reading was wrong," O'Donnell surmised, though he didn't look convinced.

"Or maybe not," Hermione said with renewed determination. She pulled the ring from Tom's finger and gasped at the violent red burn on the skin where it had been.

"The ring caused it?" O'Donnell questioned. "But we didn't find anything when we did the diagnostics, and curses are usually among the most obvious causes of seizures like his."

"I need to go," Hermione said. "I can't do anything to help him here." She practically ran from the room, desperate to get to Hogwarts as quickly as possible. At this point, there was only one person who could help, and she could only hope that he would be willing.

As she had expected, Dumbledore was in his office marking essays. When he caught sight of her, he appeared taken aback.

"Mrs. Riddle, to what do I owe the pleasure?" he asked, quickly catching himself and standing to greet her.

Hermione ignored the mistake. "'I need your help. It's Tom," she began, trying to come up with a coherent explanation of what had happened over the last few days.

"What has he done?" Dumbledore asked, peering at her worriedly. "Nothing too terrible I hope."

"I don't know! He's in St. Mungo's," Hermione said, some of her composure deserting her.

"Calm down and tell me what you do know," Dumbledore instructed her calmly. He conjured a plush chair in front of his desk and sat down.

"It started on Saturday, no, it started long before that, but I only realized what Tom was trying to do on Saturday. I wouldn't have found out except he made a mistake because he was angry with me. He came here, to Hogwarts, and used the Third Portal, the last of the three that go along with the Deathly Hallows."

"He had all three?" Dumbledore asked, eyebrows raised almost to his hairline.

"Yes, he stole the Cloak of Invisibility from me," Hermione replied bitterly. "I don't know where he got the other two. He used them to go through a mirror, knowing that he would be leaving me behind. I got here too late to stop him. But as soon as I got back to our flat, he appeared. The portal sent him back. He blamed me for the mistake, so I left. I've been staying with Minerva McGonagall since. Going through the portal destroyed our bonding, at least I assumed it did, since our rings disappeared, so we're not even married now. Today, while I was out with someone, he tried to apologize, but I wouldn't let him. I don't know what happened to him after that."

"Why exactly did you come to me?" Dumbledore asked when she paused in her narrative. "I'm sure you have others in whom you could confide."

"A few hours ago, my head started to ache. I took a potion, but it only worsened. I wouldn't have thought anything of it if it were not for the emotions that came along with it. They weren't mine. As I said, I had assumed that my bond with Tom had been destroyed. I had been blocking it, almost like using Occlumency, anyway because I found out that he had been blocking it as long as we had been married to keep me from finding out about the Deathly Hollows and the portal, but I couldn't think of any other cause, so I stopped blocking. It was almost as bad as the Cruciatus, but the feelings that came along with the pain made it even worse. As soon as I could, I Apparated to our flat. Tom was on the floor unconscious. I Apparated us to St. Mungo's, but as soon as we arrived, he started to seize. The Healers couldn't find any reason for his pain. The only anomaly was this ring. When they first did the diagnostic spells, it had a slight magical reading, but after the seizure ended, there was no magic left. It did leave a burn on his finger, though." Hermione set the ring on the desk.

Dumbledore picked it up cautiously. "Do you know what happened to the stone that the ring was set with?" he asked.

"I think a black stone, he always wore it, but I never really got a good look at it. Do you have an idea?"

"I might. One of the Deathly Hallows was rumoured to have been passed down through Slytherin's line. Tell me, did Mr. Riddle have the cloak and wand when he reappeared?"

"No, I would have seen the cloak, at least," Hermione said confidently.

"Then I feel safe in assuming that the ring held the Resurrection Stone, and that the stone was lost when Mr. Riddle went through the portal."

"But what does that have to do with Tom's condition?"

"Maybe nothing. Could you tell me more about the feelings you experience through your bond?"

"It was...horrible. Complete desolation. The pain was bad, but the feelings were almost...incapacitating. Like you had lost everything that had ever mattered to you all at once, and it was completely your fault."

"You said that Mr. Riddle had tried to apologize?"

"Yes, but you don't think that rejecting him could have that kind of effect, do you? He obviously didn't care about not being with me before," she said, trying, and failing, to be flippant.

"The portal sent him back to you. I will be the first to admit that I do not understand the workings of the Peverell's creations, but I don't think they are likely to malfunction. Let us imagine that Mr. Riddle did feel regret, wished that he had made different decisions. Is there any reason that his feelings would have this effect on him?"

"I can't believe that they could. I doubt that Tom is capable of feelings strong enough to have much effect at all."

"But you just said that you felt extremely strong emotions through your bond," Dumbledore pointed out.

Hermione shrugged helplessly, her acerbity draining from her.

"So would you say that his emotions were uncharacteristically potent?" he prodded.

"Definitely. The strongest emotion he ever seemed to have was anger. He certainly never felt very sorry for anything. Do you think it means something?"

"I think it might. And Mr. Riddle always wore this ring?" Dumbledore held it close to his eyes, as if he could see what it was or had been.

Hermione nodded.

Dumbledore seemed to be mulling something over in his head for a moment. He set the ring on his desk again and folded his hands.

"Tell me, Miss Granger, how much do you know about Horcruxes."

"They split your soul, preventing you from dying. You have to kill someone to make one."

"That is correct, but there more to it than that. Horcruxes have more effects than merely preventing death. A person who has split their soul is handicapped, in a way. He loses some of his ability to feel emotions like compassion, joy, and love. The conscience is dulled. He might know that something is wrong, but it won't feel wrong. It is possible for someone to mend their soul after it has been split, but it requires the person to feel completely genuine regret for their actions. Very little has been written about it, since very few have ever made a Horcrux and far fewer have regretted doing so. However, if, as I suspect, Mr. Riddle had a Horcrux, likely this ring, it seems possible that something happened today to make him regret the actions that created it. The Horcrux would have reconnected with his soul. I think it likely that his seizure was caused by the process."

"But he was still feeling severe pain after the seizure ended."

Dumbledore frowned, looking down at his desk. He looked up at Hermione, his blue eyes piercing. "Is it possible that he could have had more than one Horcrux."

It didn't take Hermione long to answer. Between his relatives and Myrtle, Tom had more than enough opportunities to create Horcruxes. "Yes, it is."

"Then I suspect that you will have quite a bit of difficulty if you truly want to help Mr. Riddle," he said, "and I'm afraid that you probably don't have much time. That burn on his finger was from his soul rejoining with his body. If you cannot bring all his Horcruxes, however many there are, into physical contact with him, he will die. I will admit that this is only a theory, but I can think of nothing more likely."

Hermione nodded. She would have her work cut out for her, but if Tom truly regretted what he had done, she could do no less than her utmost to save him.

AN: It's been an age, hasn't it? I hope that I haven't lost too many readers, though I would probably deserve it, and this chapter is far from the wonder that it ought to be after all this time. That said, **please review**, since the constant reviews over the last few days from new readers have done a lot to motivate me to finish this chapter, which has been languishing partially done for weeks. As I've said before, I won't abandon this story, especially when the end is so near, but neither can I guarantee that updates will be regular or timely.


	50. Author's Note

Hello Everyone!

To start off, I am not abandoning. I merely have very important things going on in real life at the moment (thesis writing, grad school apps, etc.). For the next month, I have approximately 60 pages of writing to do for classes, and that has to be my priority. I have a plan for the rest of the story, and I might have time in the next few weeks to put something together, but as always, I can make no promises.

I hope that you are willing to stick around while I try to get everything sorted out!

Violingrl07


	51. Chapter 51

AN: Hey, everyone. I know it's been quite a while... I've had ideas, but between getting into law school, finishing my senior thesis, and traveling this summer, I've hardly been able to unscramble my brain to do what I need to do, let alone what I might want to do. This chapter is a bit short, but I hope you enjoy it. I look forward to hearing your theories!

Chapter 50 - Help

Hermione arrived back at St. Mungo's full of determination. She wouldn't let it end after everything that had happened. If she had to turn the whole of the British Isles upside-down to find Tom's Horcrux, she would. She hurried to Tom's room, even though she knew that it was unlikely his status had changed since she left.

A Healer was just leaving the room as Hermione arrived.

"How is he?" she asked without preamble.

"Still unconscious," the Healer responded after pausing a few seconds to recollect whom he was addressing, "but the seizures seem to have tapered off for the most part. He seems stable, but I cannot say anymore than that."

"Thank you." Hermione brushed past the Healer and went to Tom's bedside. She grasped his hand and stared down at his pale face. Hermione had always thought the idea of someone appearing angelic while sleeping was slightly ridiculous, but Tom, for all his misdeeds, came close. It would be easy to forget that he was in this state as a result of murder and the Dark Arts.

For a moment, Hermione doubted her decided course. This was the man who had been, or would be, responsible for the deaths of many of her dearest friends. Perhaps it would be better to just let him go, for her to make just one more sacrifice to ensure the survival of those who had not yet been born and who might never be born as a result of her actions. But for all that it might have been the most logical decision, Hermione could not let go of the chance that Tom had finally understood what he had done and become truly remorseful. Was it too much to ask that she be able to keep the person she loved most, after everything she had given up? No, it was not. Who was she to decide that he ought to die, before he was even guilty of most of his crimes, when she had the ability to save him? There was no prophecy decreeing that he need die.

Hermione laid her hand against his cheek, feeling the slight rasp of stubble on her palm. She leaned down and kissed his slightly dry lips, pushing away the thought that he could very well be dead the next time she saw him.

'I love you," she murmured next to his ear. Squaring her shoulders, she walked slowly from the room, mind spinning with plans for finding Tom's Horcrux.

At first, she was at a loss. Tom had never trusted anyone, even her, so how would any of his friends, or followers, more aptly, be able to help? But then, Lucius Malfoy had been entrusted with Voldemort's diary, so she supposed there could be a minuscule chance that one of the Knights might know something. Unfortunately, from what she could recall, Aulus Malfoy was the closest to Tom, or had been before he had taken offense at her relationship with Tom. It was unlikely that she could count on any assistance from him.

But she had some leverage. She Apparated back to her room and rushed across the hall to Minerva's room, hoping that she was in.

"Minerva," she called, banging on the door incessantly. The door flew open, revealing an irritated couple, slightly flushed.

"What?" her friend asked shortly.

Hermione dragged her eyes away from the unexpected sight of a Malfoy with hair in less than perfect order to look at her friend.

"I need your help, well, your's and Abraxas.' Tom is dying, and I don't know who else to ask," she pushed out.

"You need _my _help?" Abraxas questioned, a skeptical look on his face. "How could I possibly help-"

"Tom is dying?" Minerva interrupted. "How?"

"Promise me that you won't tell anyone about this," Hermione implored. "I don't want to use an Unbreakable Vow, but I need your promise."

Minerva looked at Abraxas for a moment, then answered. "You have it."

Hermione took a deep breath. "Tom is suffering from a side effect, I guess you could say, of making a Horcrux."

Abraxas raised an eyebrow, but Minerva just looked puzzled. "A what?"

Her fiance spoke before Hermione could. "Riddle split his soul to become immortal. It's a bit more complicated, of course, or else everyone would make them, but that is the salient point."

Hermione opened her mouth to add more to his explanation, namely, the bit about killing, but a look from Abraxas stopped her.

"So why is he dying if he's immortal?" Minerva asked.

"When you regret making the Horcrux, it will attempt to rejoin your soul. Unfortunately, it seems to require physical contact, and I don't know where the Horcrux is," Hermione said, glossing over the details. "I was hoping that Aulus might know, since he was closer to Tom than almost anyone else when they were at school."

"My brother might know, but I doubt that you will be able to get him to tell you anything," Abraxas interjected, a vicious scowl marring his face. "However, because he has been a constant irritant since leaving Hogwarts, I will aid you, though it goes against the family loyalty my father always preached. Not that I need much urging to disobey my dearly departed father."

A strange gleam appeared in the blond's eye when he mentioned Setheus Malfoy's death, but Hermione didn't care to think about the reason as long as he was willing to help her.

"How are you going to do that?" Hermione asked.

"Easily enough. I am head of the family, and if I choose, I can leave my brother starving in the hedgerows without a cent to his name, which would no longer be Malfoy."

Minerva's lips twitched in the direction of a smile. Apparently, the idea of her soon-to-be brother-in-law being exiled appealed to her.

"How soon can you talk to him?"

"Now, if you like. It is rather urgent, it seems, and if we inconvenience him, so much the better. He has been lazing around the Manor for the last month, despite my orders to find something with which to occupy himself."

Hermione gave his agreement, and Abraxas Apparated away to disable the wards and allow them to Floo into the Manor.

Just as Hermione had imagined, Malfoy Manor had all the charm of a mausoleum. A quick glance a Minerva was all that Hermione needed to know that her friend would waste no time in clearing out some of the less than tasteful décor.

Only moments after they stepped through the Floo, Abraxas appeared before them, grasping his brother's arm firmly. The younger Malfoy appeared to have become slightly more portly since graduation, and his slouch did nothing to compensate for it.

Aulus aimed a petulent sneer at Minerva, which morphed into a glare of hatred when he caught sight of Hermione. His lips drew together as if to spit, but the fingers on his arm tightened.

"Mrs. Riddle is here to ask you some questions, brother. You would do well to answer without any... coaxing," Abraxas cautioned him.

"I won't say anything to the _Mudblood_," he snarled. "It's an insult to our heritage that you even let her into our home."

"If you continue in this manner, this may very well cease to be your home. I will give you one more chance. I shouldn't need to remind you of what Father always kept in the top drawer of his desk, I hope."

Aulus quailed slightly, but his expression was still far from accommodating. Abraxas nodded at Hermioned.

"I need to know if Tom ever showed or gave a diary to you," she began.

"Why do you need to know?" he retorted.

"Tom will die if I don't find it."

"Good, he deserves it, the rotten blood traitor. I only wish he would take you with him, you filthy Mudblood bitch."

Abraxas Silenced his brother with a wave of his wand. "Perhaps it would be better for me to question my brother without an audience. I shall return shortly." The brothers disappeared with a crack, leaving Minerva and Hermione to their own devices.

"You are really marrying him?" Hermione asked.

"Like you should talk, Hermione, but yes, I am. You may not believe me, but it's nice not to have to be in charge occasionally."

"I guess I just thought you would eventually end up with Philippe."

"So did I, but he just wasn't what I wanted permanently. I can respect Abraxas, even if I don't always agree with him. And he was willing to go against his father to marry me and has changed for me. A year ago, he would barely have spoken to you, but now, he''s siding with you against his own brother. Of course, he probably has some ulterior motive, but what Slytherin wouldn't? For my part, sticking it to that nasty little ferret would be reason enough."

Hermione couldn't help but laugh at Minnie's apt description, earning her a quizzical look, but before her friend could make any further comment, Abraxas had reappeared before them, dragging his brother with him.

"Aulus has something he wishes to tell you," Abraxas directed at Hermione. Aulus favored her with a baleful glare, but said nothing until he was prodded by his brother.

"Go on, then. Don't make me remind you," Abraxas hissed, fingering his wand.

"I don't know where the bloody book is," the younger Malfoy spat out. "I threw it out after he started taking up with the likes of _you_."

"Where did you throw it?" Hermione interrogated, feeling no sympathy for the blond, who was obviously being forced to converse with her.

"I don't remember," Aulus replied. He turned to his brother. "Why are you bothering to help this Mudblood? Has your _fiancee _Imperio-ed you? Father would have disowned you for this, turning against your own brother for _her._"

"Happily, Father is dead, if you hadn't noticed, and I am the head of this house," Abraxas said coldly. "Answer her now."

"I threw it into the grate in the library at the house in London months ago. You'll find nothing but ashes," he taunted cruelly.

"You had better hope not," Hermione threatened, angered by his insults and cavalier attitude toward Tom's life.

"What will you do to me? Although you're a Mudblood, I might enjoy it," he leered.

A brief look of strain appeared on Abraxas' face and Aulus vanished. He exhaled heavily, turning to face Hermione. "I … apologize for my brother. I will of course speak with the House Elves at the townhouse about the diary and let you know what they tell me. Now, I would like to speak with my fiancee privately. You will be able to Apparate once you are outside."

"I'll see you later, Hermione," Minerva promised, stepping toward Abraxas, whose normally glacial eyes warmed as he looked at her.

_No doubt reminding her about the favours she now owes him,_ Hermione thought as she made her way out of the manor. It was what Tom would have done.

Hermione waited anxiously through the evening. Minerva returned, but had nothing to tell her, other than that Abraxas had Floo-ed to the house in London shortly after Hermione had left Malfoy Manor.

She fell into a fitful sleep and awoke before dawn. As soon as visiting hours began, she made her way to St. Mungo's, although she knew that it was very unlikely that anything had changed.

Tom still lay on the bed, pale and unresponsive. Hermione took his hand and shuddered at the coolness of his skin. But for the thready pulse, it was as if he were already dead. She didn't stay long: Tom surely didn't recognise that she was there, and she didn't want to miss any communication from Abraxas or Minerva.

Immediately upon leaving the hospital, she was accosted by a regal-looking owl. She took the proffered parchment and opened it, breaking the green wax seal.

_Mrs. Riddle,_

_Please come to Malfoy Manor as quickly as possible. It concerns your husband's diary. I do not wish to say more in a letter. _

_Your servant,_

_Abraxas Malfoy_

Not wanting to waste any time, Hermione Apparated directly to the Manor. As she approached the front doors, they swung open. A House Elf was waiting for her and directed her to the library.

She quickly walked into the room, eyes searching for Abraxas.

"_Petrificus Totalus,_" a voice said softly. Hermione felt her muscles locking up and she tipped forward. Only the slight turn of her head toward the voice prevented her from falling directly on her face. She was then Levitated over to a settee. The voice's owner walked over to her, carefully remaining out of her limited field of vision.

As the voice grew louder, Hermione couldn't help but recognize it. Forcing herself to resist his spell, she wrenched her head toward the owner of the voice and drew in a sharp breath.

Soundlessly, her lips formed the name of her assailant. "_Tom._"


	52. Meeting Again

Chapter 51 – Meeting Again

AN: Hello, there. Well, I'm into law school, finished the thesis, and so on. Should be studying for finals, but decided not to. Hope some of you are still with me and enjoy this chapter!

His eyebrows were slightly raised, as if he were surprised by her resistance. He must have seen a hint of recognition in her half-paralyzed expression, for his eyes narrowed and showed a considering glint.

"It seems by your reaction that you recognise me, witch," he began. "But I am quite certain that I do not know you."

He flicked the wand in his hand, and Hermione felt the magical restraint loosen. She slowly sat up, inhaling sharply when she spied Aulus' limp body in a chair on the other side of the room.

"He is still alive, for now," Tom said, a smirk the likes of which Hermione hadn't seen in ages on his face.

Hermione looked at him closely. He was strangely blurred around the margins and his movements seemed to lack the normal weight of a physical body. It took only a moment for Hermione to realise what he was.

Deciding what to do with her knowledge was more difficult. There was the risk that if she told him that she knew how he was regaining his body, he would summarily eliminate her. Summoning her courage, Hermione began to speak, hoping that she was correct in betting that he would be too arrogant to view her as a threat, just as he had before.

"I know about you, Tom. I know you are a Horcrux, and I know how you were made. Please, just listen to me before you do anything rash." Hermione forcefully suppressed the tremor in her voice, unwilling to show any weakness to this Tom Riddle, one that she had left behind long ago.

The doppelganger's nostril flared. Hermione knew she had insulted him. He mastered himself, shrugging carelessly, curiosity and hubris winning out over his Slytherin self-preservation.

"I suppose I have time. But only a little. You had best hurry." He twirled his wand, or more likely Aulus,' as he waited for her to begin.

"We met in Tom's seventh year at Hogwarts. At first, I said I was a transfer, but you found out that I was lying rather quickly. I am actually from the future, about fifty years in the future. In my time, you were a mass murderer who thought himself a Dark Lord. When I arrived in this time, I barely kept myself from killing you on multiple occasions. You figured out my secret, and we manipulated each other for months. I was afraid to trust you, and more afraid that you would never trust me and would go on to murder everyone I cared about a second time. Eventually, you fooled me into lovin you and believing that you loved me, and I agreed to marry you."

Tom had managed to maintain his equanimity for the first part of her speech, but upon hearing that he had asked this girl to marry him, his eyes widened momentarily.

"I thought that you were finally finished with your manipulation. Unfortunately, I was wrong. You used me to get powerful artefacts that would give you all the power you could hope for. We had only been married a few months when you deserted me. Because of your actions, our marriage was legally ended, although the—"

"What were these artefacts?" Tom asked, cutting her off.

Hermione sighed wistfully. Of course he would ask. "The Deathly Hallows, and before you ask, you destroyed them when you used them. They are gone."

"Tell me what I did," he commanded.

Hermione's nerves were beginning to get the best of her. "You took the Deathly Hallows, one of which you _stole_ from me, and used them to go through a portal that would take you to your idea of the perfect world," she retorted sharply. "I can only imagine that you thought it would involve you ruling over everybody like a bloody tyrant.

"Imagine your disappointment when it only brought you right back to me." Even after everything that had happened, Hermione couldn't contain her lingering bitterness.

"Why?" Tom looked like he could not comprehend what she had said.

"According to you, because you loved me. Of course, you blamed everything on me before you realized it."

"That's impossible."

"I can say very confidently that it is not." Hermione went on the offensive before he could answer. "You regretted your actions so much that you reabsorbed one of your Horcruxes. You know as well as I do how rare that is."

"I don't believe you," he interjected. "I would never do something so stupid."

"You did. Right now, your body is lying at St. Mungo's in agony because your true soul is trying to reabsorb you."

"Why should I believe you? You have every reason to lie to me right now."

"The only thing I want is for my Tom to live. To do that, I need you."

"Convince me that I should help you." The gleam in his eyes told Hermione that he had no intention whatsoever of doing anything other than mocking her.

"You are a Legilimens, correct?" Hermione asked.

"Of course."

"Then look and you'll see. I'll let you see everything."

"I still don't believe you."

Despite the stress and anxiety of the situation, Hermione couldn't help but feel slightly exasperated.

"Tom, your other self, the one currently dying in St. Mungo's, was my _husband_. He also had the brilliant idea of using an obscure bonding ceremony to make sure that he could figure out what I was thinking and feeling while preventing me from doing the same. He knew whatever he wanted to know, whether I liked it or not. _I _have nothing to hide. If this works, you will know everything about me that he does. Does that convince you?"

Tom looked slightly disquieted.

"What's the matter, Tom? Afraid of what you'll see?" she taunted, hoping it would give him the extra push he needed.

Tom stepped in front of her and grabbed her face, forcing her to meet his eyes.

He wasn't careful when he entered her mind. She instantly became nauseated and the pain that she had felt even while blocking out her connection with Tom increased threefold. As he rifled through her memories, Hermione lost control of the barrier between her mind and Tom's. Through the instantaneous agony that erupted, she could feel the other Tom reeling. Realizing that this might

be her only chance, she completely opened her mind to both of them. She gasped with the intensity.

_"Well, what do we have here? A student locked out of their common room and it's not even breakfast yet. You are lucky that you have such a responsible Head Boy willing to make rounds at quarter to seven in the morning just in case some idiot forgets her password," he added snidely, as he glanced at her less-than-impressive attire.  
_

* * *

_"Hey, when did this turn green?" she asked, trying to lighten the mood with little success._

_"I don't know, must have been magic," Tom answered softly._

_They waited in silence, strangely comfortable in each other's presence. Before long, the clock started tolling midnight._

_"You know what tradition is, don't you?" Tom asked on the eighth toll. Before Hermione could say anything, he kissed her softly on the lips. _

* * *

_"After you apologized to me for your actions, I felt very guilty," Hermione began, the words flooding out of her like a dam had burst. "I wasn't any better than you, I was maybe even worse. I didn't trust you with Louisa because you were a Slytherin, I did nearly everything that you did. Then on New Year's Eve, I purposely tried to get you drunk to get information and find out if you were being honest with me. It was stupid, I know, but I was afraid that you were manipulating me. I already lost everyone I cared about, I couldn't stand it if you were just using me. Then after you apologized, I felt terrible. You were being honest with me and I was still lying to you!" she finished, out of breath, congratulating herself on not lying at all in her whole speech._

* * *

_"What is your reason?" he asked commandingly._

_"What?" she asked, not comprehending his question._

_"What is your reason for wanting to trust me?"_

_"Well, I…" she blushed and looked into the fire._

_"Hermione," he said quietly. "I need an answer."_

_"I…care about you. You are my closest friend here, maybe closer than any I have ever had before."_

_"Are you telling the truth?" he asked with quiet harshness._

_"Yes, I am," Hermione answered, looking straight into his eyes, silently giving him permission to test her honesty. Tom stared at her for a long moment. He saw that she wasn't lying about caring for him, but that the kind of caring was not quite as she had described. It was something deeper than friendship, certainly stronger than any emotion that had been directed toward him before, but he couldn't identify what it was or understand its source._

* * *

_"What does it mean?" she asked._

_"'Thou eternally mine, I eternally thine.'" Hermione nodded her assent and Tom gently replaced it on her finger and pulled her close to him._

_"Hermione," he whispered in her ear, "I think I love you." Hermione's eyes filled with tears._

_"I love you, too," Hermione said emotionally, gently turning his face toward her. She stared into his eyes for a moment before stretching up to kiss him._

_Tom had never felt anything like it. It was different than the other kisses they had shared. __"Because she belongs to me now," __he thought before all thoughts left his mind. It didn't even occur to him that the feelings might be related to love. They stood there embracing for what seemed both like eternity and no time at all._

* * *

_"Is she a Pureblood? Or are you a blood traitor?" Grindelwald hissed maliciously._

_"She is a Mudblood," Tom admitted. "But the most powerful witch I have ever met, and I have not yet discovered her full capabilities."_

_"And how did a mere Mudblood manage to capture your attention?" Grindelwald asked curiously._

_"She appeared in the library with her trunk and no explanation of how she got there. She dared to antagonise me and knew of my heritage as soon as she heard my name. We nearly killed each other while duelling in the first week. In fact, for the first few months, we constantly considered assassinating each other. She was the first person I had ever met who could possibly be my intellectual equal. Were it not for her blood and occasional lapses in judgement, I would consider her to be an ideal Slytherin." _

* * *

_"I no longer want you to be my girlfriend," he continued, stepping toward her. Hermione gasped, confused for a moment. Her eyes filled with tears, first of horror, but then of anticipation._

_He knelt. "When I think of you, you are no longer just my girlfriend. I dream of waking to your face every morning for the rest of my life, of coming home to you every evening. I cannot even imagine my life without you in it. Hermione Jane Granger, if you were no longer my girlfriend, I would be the happiest man on earth._

_"Will you marry me?"_

_Hermione sat motionlessly for a second. Tom felt anxiety creep upon him, but it was soon relieved._

_"Yes!" _

* * *

_"Will you, Tom Marvolo Riddle, of your own free will, bind your body, never to desert or harm, with that of your intended, to be separated only in death?"_

_"I will."_

_"Will you, Hermione Jane Granger, of your own free will, bind your body, never to desert or harm, with that of your intended, to be separated only in death?"_

_"I will." A gleaming strand of golden light coiled around their joined hands._

_"Will you, Tom Marvolo Riddle, of your own free will, bind your soul, ever faithful, with that of your intended, never to be separated in life or in death?"_

_"I will."_

_"Will you, Hermione Jane Granger, of your own free will, bind your soul, ever faithful, with that of your intended, never to be separated in life or in death?"_

_"I will," she answered, a slight tremor in her voice._

_The entire room watched in awe as silvery strands of light appeared around the couple, swirling through the air, causing their clothing to flutter as if touched by a breeze. It felt as if lightning were dancing across their skin and jumping through their joined hands._

_"With your kiss, may your troth be sealed, souls united, never to be separated," the official intoned, stepping back from the couple._

* * *

Suddenly, instead of seeing Hermione's memories, Tom felt himself being pulled away. The pain was increasing, but he could still focus enough to experience the new memory.

* * *

_Tom's body and heart flared with pain momentarily. His anger toward Alphard faded as a sense of urgency built within him. He could feel that he was about to lose her. He struggled with his emotions, concerned that the possibility of any future with her rested entirely on her staying for just a few moments to hear him out._

_"Please, Hermione."_

_"I can't, Tom. I'm sorry." She hurried outside and quickly Apparated away._

_Tom watched her disappear, a leaden feeling settling into his chest. For the first time since realising his feelings for Hermione, he was forced to accept that she would never forgive him, let alone allow him to repair their relationship. There was no ancient tome or experiment that could provide him with an answer to his problem._

_"Fuck," he murmured painfully, running his hand through his hair, not bothering to smooth it back down. He left the cafe, not caring about the stares he received from the other patrons._

_He made his way back to the half-empty flat, his mind churning as he searched for ideas for convincing Hermione of his love and sincerity. Every solution was immediately met with countless insurmountable obstacles. He seated himself on the couch, arms resting on his legs and head between his hands, a throbbing headache beginning._

_It was all gone. Everything that he had wanted was forever beyond his reach. The grand destiny that he had thought awaited him since discovering his lineage was nothing more than a cruel joke. His every success served only to increase the height of his fall. Against his every expectation, he had been loved, despite his iniquities, but now he had lost the thing he had not even realised he wanted. Even death would give no relief, since his remaining Horcrux ensured that he would only return as an even more tortured spirit should it be anything other than natural. His anguish rushed through him in a wave of physical pain, but he fought through it as he gazed around the room at the few things he had left to remind him of his life with Hermione._

* * *

Tom withdrew and spun away, reeling from what he had seen. He could scarcely believe that he had seen himself in her memories. His actions and emotions did not fit anything he could remember from his life. And the last memory, the one he had seen and felt as himself, was wrenching. Even though he didn't have all the memories that had led his other self to that point, the effect was debilitating. He had felt that he had nothing. His lifelong purpose, to show everyone who and what he was, and damn the consequences, had meant nothing to him. Somehow, this _Hermione_, whom even after leaving the memory he felt as though he loved, had turned his world upside-down.

"What did you do?" For the first time since she had entered the room, the superiority was gone.

"You did it," she said. "I told you we were married. You wanted a soul bond. Even though we're no longer married, the bond is still there. You felt yourself through it."

"He was me, but he was ... different," he murmured.

"Yes, he is different. That is why I need you, so that he can survive," Hermione pleaded. "He needs you, even if you don't need him. And I think that you were happy with your life with me."

"I will...agree to go with you to St. Mungo's," he said finally. "But if this doesn't work, you must let me go."

"Will you kill Aulus?" As much as Hermione wanted to ignore the fate of her former classmate, her conscience would not quite allow it.

"If your Tom dies, I will ... find someone else to complete the process, far away from here. Though I will not promise you any more than that."

Hermione was relieved that he had agreed to even that much.

"Let's go." She didn't want to risk him changing his mind. "I'm going to Apparate us directly to St. Mungo's. Do you have the diary on you?"

He waved his hand and the book floated over to him from Aulus' lap. "Now I do. Let's just get this over with so you will leave me in peace."

Hermione grasped his arm firmly and focused on their destination. A brief squeezing sensation and the bright, sterile walls of St. Mungo's surrounded them.

"Come on, we don't have much time," she said, pulling him with her. A few of the Healers caught sight of her companion and stared. Not wanting awkward questions, she sped up.

"This is his room," she said when they reached the ward. "I don't know what you will need to do."

Healer O'Donnell was standing over Tom when they entered the room. He looked up and gaped.

"Who are you?"

"That is none of your concern. Just tell me how he is," Hermione cut him off.

O'Donnell's eyes strayed toward Tom once more before he answered. "He is still in intense pain, from what I can tell, but we've continued to manage it the best we can. I'm more worried about his vitals. His heart rate has been off the scale for a prolonged period and respiratory function is decreasing. If nothing changes, he probably only has two, three days at the most left."

"I need you to leave, Healer." Hermione's tone brooked no opposition. "This is Unspeakable business."

O'Donnell looked like he wanted to resist, but at Hermione's glare, he backed away and left the room.

"What should I do?" Tom asked, looking down at his original body.

"Try touching the journal to him."

"You really have no idea what you're doing, do you?"

"Do you have a better idea?"

"Yes, I could finish off Aulus and leave him to die." A small part of him delighted in the flash of pain he saw on her face. The control he had prized his entire life had nearly slipped from his grasp, but this was one power he still retained.

"Then why are you here?" Hermione asked angrily. "I didn't force you!"

"I was curious," he defended. He lowered his eyes back to the form on the bed and moved to connect the book to the hand clenched on the sheet. He misjudged, and his own hand connected with it.

Hermione watched as his body went rigid, the journal falling to the bed where it disintegrated into ash. An alarm began to sound as Tom's heart rate climbed rapidly.

The younger Tom began to shimmer, losing his cohesiveness. Finally, he vanished all together. Tom didn't stir, although some of the tension seemed to have left his body. Gingerly, Hermione opened up their bond.

She felt nothing. He was completely gone, just as he had been for the few minutes after going through the third portal. She went to his body and took the cool hand in her own. Nothing happened for moment, but then she felt a jolt, as if she had been hit by a Stunner.

Tom was there again. He was weak and still in some pain, but he was there. He opened his eyes slowly. When he saw her face, they grew wet with emotion, more than she had ever seen from him before. Through there bond, Hermione felt a slight brush, truer and more honest than any she had felt from him before. His lips tilted upward slightly before he fell into a restorative slumber.


	53. Resolutions

_**Disclaimer:**_ All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Chapter 52 – Resolutions

Mere seconds later, Healer O'Donnell burst into the room.

"What did you _do_?" he asked frantically as he nearly pushed her out of the way to get to the bed where Tom lay peacefully.

"Like I said, Unspeakable business," Hermione answered, inserting herself between the officious Healer and Tom. "He will be fine now."

"How do you know? It could just be temporary. I need to recast the diagnostic charms to learn more."

"Just make sure he is physically healthy enough for me to take him home," Hermione ordered.

The Healer nodded reluctantly. After casting a few charms, he turned to Hermione.

"His heart is weak, some of his internal organs are still showing stress, and he has some muscle damage from the convulsions. It would be best for him to stay at least another night."

"Fine. But I'll take him home tomorrow."

Wisely, the Healer left the room without argument.

Hermione sat down next to the bed to wait. The time passed slowly, with each minute seeming infinite as Hermione watched Tom for a flickering eyelid or a twitching finger. Eventually, the stress and lack of sleep of recent days overwhelmed her. She slumped down onto the bed in a restless slumber.

When she awoke, she immediately looked at Tom, appalled that she had fallen asleep. However, her self-recriminations were short-lived: Tom was watching her with soft, slightly bleary eyes.

"Hermione." He reached out weakly to grasp her hand.

"How do you feel, Tom? Are you in any pain? I can't sense any, but..." Hermione began to ramble until Tom interrupted quietly.

"No, no pain. The Healer already gave me enough potions to stock an apothecary. But what happened to me?" he asked haltingly.

"It was your Horcrux." Hermione couldn't help the slight harshness that crept into her voice as she recalled it. "You must have regretted your actions enough for your soul to be restored. The pain was caused by not being able to contact the last Horcrux in order to finish the process."

Tom winced slightly at her description, an expression of shame completely out of place on the Tom that Hermione had known, especially when she could feel that it was sincere through their bond.

"How did you know what was happening?"

"I felt it," Hermione answered flatly. "We may be divorced, but our bond is still there."

The wince reappeared. "I'm sorry, Hermione. For so many things. I never even realised..."

"I would imagine having a whole soul might feel strange to you."

"Yes, it does. I cannot even describe the sensation, only that everything I feel seems to have gained an entirely new dimension. Especially my feelings for you."

"Tom, I think you need to rest now. You were very ill." Hermione cut him off, standing to leave and disentangling their fingers. "I'll go so you can sleep."

"Please, Hermione."

Hermione wanted nothing more than to leave. She knew that she loved him, might always love him, but she didn't think she could cope with hearing what he was certain to say. Yet, as she looked at him pleading features and felt the desperate hope through their bond, she lacked the willpower to refuse. She slowly sat down.

"I know now that I love you, that I have for a long time. That was why the mirror brought me back to you. I also know that there is probably no way for me to earn your forgiveness for what I've done to you. But will you please let me try? If you want me to turn myself in to the Aurors, I will. Anything so that you don't hate me."

"I don't hate you, Tom, I never have." Hermione looked away, not able to bear facing him. "And I don't want you to go to Azkaban. But I don't know if or when I can forgive you. What you have done...you betrayed me repeatedly and used me. I don't know which of your actions were because of your soul and which were just you."

"Is there nothing I can do?" Tom asked.

"I don't know. Please, I need to think about this. I'll come back later to check on you."

Hermione Apparated away, leaving Tom alone in the bleak hospital room.

Hermione did not return that day, but Tom was set upon by his supervisor almost immediately after she left.

"Merlin, Tom, what happened to you?" Trelawney asked when she caught sight of his pale and drawn face.

"We really shouldn't talk about it here," Tom replied. "Unspeakable business, you know." He held his breath, hoping that Trelawney would accept what was for him a rather weak explanation.

"Oh, I know." Her eyes narrowed slightly as she looked at him, but she soon relaxed and set the basket she had brought next to the bed. "Honeyduke's, nothing better for a magical mishap, in my opinion," she said kindly.

"Thank you. I'd have some, but I'm not sure my stomach is up to it at the moment after all the potions the Healer gave me."

"I completely understand. This happens at least once to every Unspeakable. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if some of the more senior Unspeakables place bets on the timing of these little incidents."

Tom smiled weakly, then calculatingly let his eyes drift shut for a moment.

"I can see that you need your rest. Take the rest of the week off and send me an owl if you don't feel well enough to come in next week. We'll discuss what happened then."

"Thank you. I'm sure I'll be much better by then."

Trelawney patted his hand in a motherly fashion and departed.

Tom had no other visitors until Hermione came the next morning to take him home. Healer O'Donnell put up a token resistance, but Tom was soon being helped to the Floo by an orderly under Hermione's watchful gaze.

Hermione made sure he reached the couch without difficulty, then set about preparing sandwiches for lunch.

"You must be hungry, between your days unconscious and the terrible food at St. Mungo's," she commented lightly.

"I would have been, but Trelawney stopped in with enough chocolate to satisfy a giant, so I can't complain too much."

"That was nice of her. Did she say anything about you returning to work?"

"Yes, I'm to check in with her next week. When will you go back to the Auror Department? Thomson can't be happy with how long you've been absent."

"He's not, but he understands that it's necessary at the moment." Hermione's voice took on a slight edge, and Tom could easily hear subtext to her words: _Because of you and all of your unspeakably horrible actions._

"I see." Hermione brought a plate of food to him and took a seat in a chair across from him. The meal was mostly silent, with Tom not wanting to risk unleashing quite yet what he assumed must be a considerable amount of anger toward him by inquiring about what had occurred during his convalescence.

After they were finished and everything put away, Hermione helped him to his bed. Tom hated how weak he felt, but relished the fact that she was touching him at all. When she turned to leave the bedroom, Tom called her back.

"Hermione, will you tell me how you saved me?"

Hermione sighed, obviously not wanting to discuss it, but she returned to the bed and sat on the edge.

"Well, it began with your ring. It left a burn mark on your finger during your first seizure. I had no idea what to do, so I took it to Dumbledore on the slight chance that he might have an idea. Luckily for you, he did.

"He asked if I knew anything about Horcruxes and suggested that your condition was a result of your soul seeking to reconnect with your Horcruxes. The only other item I could think of that might have been a Horcrux was your diary. In my time, Abraxas' son had it before it was destroyed, so I hoped that he or Aulus might have it now.

"I managed to convince Abraxas to let me speak with Aulus. He wouldn't answer me, but I received a note from Abraxas telling me to come to Malfoy Manor. When I arrived, you were there."

"How is that possible?" Tom interjected.

"You would know better than I, Tom," Hermione replied coolly. "Apparently, your diary had already begun using Aulus to gain a physical form. Aulus was nearly dead when I arrived. You, or your Horcrux attacked me, but I managed to convince him to come with me back to St. Mungo's, though only after I promised to let him go if we weren't successful in saving you. You know the rest. You absorbed the last piece of your soul and woke up soon after."

Tom was silent for a long moment. When he finally spoke, Hermione was very surprised by his words.

"Thank you, Hermione. No one else would have done half as much to save my life. I doubt anyone would have done anything, actually. I'm very sorry I put you through this."

"You know me, I wouldn't have been able to live with myself if I'd just let you die," Hermione said, trying to lighten the tone of the conversation.

"Anyone else would think I deserved it after all that I've done to you," Tom continued, determined not to let her ignore his sincerity.

"Oh, I agree that you probably deserved it, but letting you die wouldn't make me much of a Gryffindor, would it?" Hermione couldn't stop the bitterness from creeping into her voice.

"No, I guess not." He took a deep breath. "Hermione, earlier I asked if I could have another chance. I'm asking again, begging, really. I love you, and it's so different than it was before. I feel it, even without the bond between us. Please, just stay here with me. I'll transfigure a separate bed for you, do whatever you want. I would deserve it if you decided to keep seeing Alphard! But let me try to make up for everything I've done to you."

Hermione blinked rapidly to prevent her tears from falling. "Like I said yesterday, I need time to think. Please, stop pushing me." She stood and moved toward the door. "I'll come back tomorrow to check on you. Send your Patronus to me if you need anything."

Tom heard her movements in the living room for a few more moments, then the sharp crack of Apparation.

Hermione was completely emotionally wrung out by the time. She lay on her bed, Tom's words running through her head, much as they had the night before. She wanted to believe him so badly that she could hardly stand it. Everything he had said was what she had dreamed of hearing from him so many times before.

The hours passed slowly as Hermione weighed her desire to love and be loved by Tom against her fear of yet another betrayal and never-ending resentment. Finally, as dawn was just beginning to break, she made her decision.

Tom slept fitfully. He was plagued by dreams that faded instantly when he awoke during the night, and during his periods of wakefulness, all he could think about was the possibility that Hermione might never forgive him, let alone come back to him.

He heard a crack and a series of thumps outside the bedroom. He slid his legs off the bed and gingerly stood up. His legs shook slightly, but he managed to make it to the door without too much difficulty. What he saw gave him hope.

Hermione stood in the centre of the room with about half a dozen small boxes and bags on the floor next to her.

"Tom, you shouldn't be out of bed," she said when she saw him leaning on the doorframe.

Tom ignored her and walked toward her. "You've decided?" he asked, gesturing at the floor.

"I'll give you another chance."

Tom couldn't recall ever feeling so happy. Even if he had had moments worthy of similar happiness, he had certainly never felt it.

"But only because I realized that after how much you have hurt me, one more betrayal will not make a significant difference. And if I still love you after everything you have done, there is not much hope that I will ever stop. I am not willing to punish myself anymore."

"I promise that I will never betray you again," Tom said fervently, reaching out and grasping her hands. "Thank you, Hermione." He leaned forward to try to press a kiss upon her lips, but she turned her face away.

"I'm not ready for that, Tom. I don't know when I will be. If you are serious about this, I need you to wait. I need time to see that you won't change. I need you to be honest and tell me how you feel and what you are planning, instead of manipulating me and hiding things from me. You may decide that it is not worth it, in the end."

"Anything would be worth it."

"You always know the right thing to say, Tom," she sighed. "It only makes it more difficult."

"Use our bond, if you doubt me," Tom urged.

"Not now, but I will keep it in mind. Now sit down while I unpack. Then I'll make you something for breakfast."

The rest of the day went by in a flurry of pleasant domesticity from Tom's perspective. Hermione unpacked, made a simple-fry up for breakfast, and spent a fair amount of the day taking care of him and making sure he took his potions on schedule. Normally, he would have chafed at her care, but he felt so relieved by her presence that it scarcely crossed his mind.

That night when Hermione helped him into the bedroom, he saw immediately that she had once again Transfigured their bed into two smaller beds against opposite walls of the room. He couldn't help but be slightly disappointed, but he made no complaint After all, it was more than he could have hoped for twenty-four hours earlier.

Tom recovered quickly and felt more than well enough to return to work the following Monday. He had never been more grateful for blasé attitudes of the Unspeakables. Trelawney had asked about his health and for a general explanation of what had happened to him. She took his reply that he felt fine and had accidently activated a strong unknown curse ward while going through Sennsik's journals more or less at face value. She did seem slightly skeptical, but Tom got the impression that for however concerned she might have been, she didn't feel the need to learn the details considering that he had survived with no long-term effects.

Hermione had an even easier time. Her ability to promise Thomson that she was fully back in the Auror Department with no more side jobs for the Department of Mysteries went a long way toward smoothing her return. From Hermione's point of view, if Tom ever again did anything that required Auror involvement, she was through, so she had no qualms about her promise.

Alphard was very pleased to see Hermione after her absence. He had been worried when she had stopped coming to work, especially after seeing how unstable Riddle had seemed when last he saw him. He had heard that Riddle was in St. Mungo's, so while he wasn't happy that Hermione had presumably been with Riddle, neither was he surprised. Only an idiot wouldn't realise that Hermione still loved Riddle, and Alphard was no idiot. However, he had not given up hope by any means. Riddle had obviously screwed up at least once, most likely several times, and Alphard clung to hope that it was only a matter of time until he did so again. He was young: he could afford to wait and perhaps even stir the pot on occasion.

One such occasion was Abraxas and Minerva's wedding, which occurred at Malfoy Manor only a month and a half after Tom and Hermione had begun living together again. Minerva had confided to Hermione that she would have preferred to wait, but with Abraxas' father's recent death and Aulus' mysterious illness, Abraxas had thought it best to give the reporters at _The Daily Prophet_ something positive to write about the Malfoy family. When mentioning Aulus, Minerva had given Hermione a slightly suspicious look, but overall, she seemed to have decided to let the matter go, something that surprised Hermione greatly and made her very thankful for what she assumed to be Abraxas' Slytherin influence.

Tom and Hermione were both invited to the wedding, Hermione as Minerva's Maid of Honor, a designation that bothered Tom but about which he felt he had no right to complain. Tom was also bothered by Alphard's position as Best Man, which ensured that he, rather than Tom, would be spending a fair amount of the wedding festivities with Hermione.

Had his relationship with Hermione been progressing more rapidly, it might not have mattered to him, but so far, he felt like he and Hermione were more like roommates than people who had at one point been married and by their own admissions still loved each other. Hermione still slept in a separate bed and often avoided all but the most platonic of touches. They had regained some of their ease with each other, but Tom sensed even without access to Hermione through their bond that she was holding back, for all she had said she was willing to try again. He had determined early on to wait as long as necessary, but her interactions with Alphard made it difficult.

During the reception, Tom was seated with a group of former classmates from Hogwarts, none much more than a mere acquaintance. Hermione, on the other hand, was seated next to Alphard at the table with the rest of the wedding party. He watched with jealousy a Hermione easily placed a hand on Alphard's arm and laughed as something the dark-haired man had said. He wanted nothing more than to tear her away from him and leave, but knew that it would be one of the worst things he could possibly do.

Later when the dancing began, Hermione danced with Alphard more than she danced with Tom, a fact Tom was very aware of. After one of their dances, Tom relinquished her to Alphard with a covert glare. Hermione didn't see it, but Alphard certainly did and responded with an irritating smirk. Tom gritted his teeth and went to get himself a drink at the refreshment table. When he looked back toward the dance floor, the couple had disappeared. After several minutes of searching while attempting not to be completely obvious about his actions, Tom came across them on a secluded balcony. He could not hear what was being said, but he could easily see Alphard hug Hermione, then lean down to buss her lips. It was almost more than he could bear. Alphard had in one night had more physical contact with Hermione than Tom had had since he had awoken in St. Mungo's six weeks earlier. He returned to the ballroom, trying to ignore the nagging hopelessness that was burgeoning. After what seemed like an eternity, Hermione finally approached him to say she was ready to leave. He couldn't help but notice how much more high-spirited she seemed than usual. Hermione said nothing about it, and neither did he.

Hermione noticed Tom's downcast expression as they set about getting ready for bed once they reached their flat. She couldn't think of any particular reason for it, so she decided not to worry. She did worry, though, about Alphard's behavior. He seemed to have indulged in a bit too much firewhiskey, and some of his behavior had bordered on amorous, despite her having made clear to him when she had returned to work about Tom's illness that she only wanted his friendship. She would have to have another talk with him next time she saw him at work.


	54. Putting the Past Behind Them

_**Disclaimer:**_ All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Chapter 53 – Putting the Past Behind Them

The week after the Malfoy wedding was hell. It seemed that every time Tom saw Hermione, Alphard was there, too. While he understood that they spent time together because of their work, he did not understand how work required Hermione to stay late working on a case every night, much less with Alphard to keep her company.

On Monday, he had gone over to the Auror section at the end of the day to ask Hermione if she was ready to go home. Her answer had been a shake of her head and a mumbled instruction to go home and make himself dinner because she had a lot of work left to do. Against his nature, he had ignored her dismissiveness and told her that he would see her at home and leave something for her to eat.

"Don't bother," she had said, finally looking up at him for a moment. Or so he thought. "I'll be eating…"

"Hermione, I've got fish and chips from that Muggle place you like so well," Alphard had interrupted, striding through the door.

Tom was more than put out, but the last thing he wanted was to make another scene in front of the Black cur. So he had smiled tightly and left. A charm on Hermione's office door prevented it from slamming.

Midday on Tuesday, Tom received a memo from Hermione telling him that she would be out on a case and not to expect her home until Wednesday evening. Tom was not pleased, but he had comforted himself with the thought that at least she would be away from Black for a while. It was not to be. He had stayed late working on an alignment issue in the Space Room Wednesday evening and had gone to check Hermione's office in case she had returned and not yet left for home. At this point he was hardly surprised to see Hermione covered in mud, as well as something blue and gelatinous, Scourgifying and being Scourgifyed by none other than his least favorite scion of the Black family.

"Hermione, it seems you made it through your assignment unscathed," Tom had said, a slight edge creeping into his voice as he took in the sight of the pair, particularly focusing on Hermione's laughing face.

"Oh, Tom! Yes, we're fine, and Azkaban has a new inmate, thanks to Alphard," she had replied, mirth twinkling in her eyes.

"Well, I'll see you at home then. Good evening, Black."

Thursday proved to be Tom's breaking point. Finally, Hermione had Apparated home with him directly after work. Her mood had been somewhat quiet, but she didn't seem unhappy, so Tom had refrained from commenting. Instead, they talked about her latest case a work, a smuggler who was importing poisonous ducks through Muggle customs. He had tried not to think about how low she had brought him – that he was grateful for the mere fact that she did not seem to be avoiding him. His gratitude had lasted precisely until a quarter past eight, when bloody Black had shown up at their door to take Hermione to the local café to _chat_. With a comment over her shoulder that she shouldn't be out too late, Hermione was gone, leaving Tom to clean up the remnants of their dinner.

It was now Friday just after dawn. After Hermione had left the night before, Tom had scrawled a note telling her that something had come up at the Department of Mysteries and that he wouldn't be back that night. In truth, all that had come up had been a burning desire to recalibrate the Space Room to account for the expansion of the universe to make realignments like the one he had done earlier in the week unnecessary. Tom had finished around midnight, but rather than returning to the flat had gone into his small office, taken out a parchment and quill, and begun to write.

Five hours later, he had written all he felt necessary. One letter was formal and brief, addressed to Verana Trelawney. Within it, he had notified her of his immediate resignation and plans to move to America in order to "have a new start." The other letter was far more personal and charmed to allow only one person to view its contents.

At eight o'clock, Tom left his office and went to speak with his superior. He handed her the letter and waited for her to read it, standing silently in front of her desk.

"I wish I could say that I was surprised, Mr. Riddle," Trelawney said. "You have seemed to have other priorities from the time you started working here. I will be sorry to see you go, you are the most talented employee I have ever had, but that means very little to me if you do not want to be here. Know, however, that if you ever wish to return, I will make sure you are able to."

Tom thanked her and turned to leave, but before he could do so, he felt her arms go around him in a grandmotherly embrace. "Take care, Tom. I'll be writing to an old colleague at the American Bureau of Magical Research to let him know to hire you if you should chose to apply. Let me know if there is anything else I can do for you."

Tom tentatively returned the embrace for a moment, then schooled his face, thanked her again, and departed.

By the time he arrived at the flat, Hermione had already left, as he had expected. He placed the letter on the kitchen table and went into the bedroom. With little effort, the two beds on opposite sides of the room merged into one big enough for two people in the center. He tried not to think about who the second person might be. A few waves of his wand and all his personal effects were packed away neatly in his old school trunk. To his mind, it was appropriate symbolism. This was how it should have been when he left Hogwarts – just himself and his trunk. Now he would be starting over as if none of the past two years had happened. It was the least he could do for her, and the only thing he could do for himself.

It was almost nine o'clock, and he needed to leave. He shrunk his belongingss and put them in his cloak pocket, but as he was about to leave, he walked back to the table and dropped the last truly personal belonging he had next to the letter. With a crack, he Apparated out of the apartment.

* * *

Hermione had been more than slightly irritated when she returned home from the scheduled meeting at the café on Thursday night. After having put up with Alphard's antics, she had finally been able to convey to him that she was not interested in him romantically and that he needed to go back to his social life and leave her out of it. With the way he had been behaving, she wasn't sure how much she wanted to with him outside of work, and she had told him so. She had left him in the tender care of the cute, blonde waitress, letting him know that she would be happy to be his platonic friend if he would quit flirting with her.

She had hoped to talk it over with Tom afterward, but he was nowhere to be found, and although Hermione doubted that he truly had anything urgent, she couldn't really blame him after her absence most of the week. In fact, when she thought about it now, he had been even more withdrawn than usual, almost acting as though he was avoiding her. It did make sense, she realized. Every time he had seen her this week, Alphard hadn't been far behind, and Alphard had been doing his best to play the role of determined suitor. Tom was probably quite miffed about the whole situation.

_I'll make sure to tell him tomorrow that Alphard won't be bothering me anymore_, she thought as she prepared for bed. _If he's angry about this week, he'll just have to deal with it. I won't put up with any ridiculous jealousy at this point in our relationship. If I wanted out, I wouldn't have given him another chance in the first place._

She fell into a fitful sleep, wishing not for the first time that she was sleeping in their bed with Tom beside her.

In the morning, Hermione planned to head directly to the Department of Mysteries after dropping off her gear at her office, hopeful that Trelawney had enough of a soft spot for her to let her in to see Tom, but she was intercepted by Thomson.

"Granger, I need to have a chat with you," he said gruffly, obviously feeling awkward about something. "I've noticed that Black seems to be interested in you. I don't care, but it's making him careless when he works with you, so from now on, I'm splitting you two up. You work well together, but not well enough to be worth the discomfort it causes for the rest of us."

Hermione was embarrassed that someone else had noticed her predicament with Alphard. Maybe it was more obvious than she had thought. "That's fine, I actually just discussed it with him yesterday. It's probably for the best, at least for the near future."

Thomson almost seemed to sigh with relief. "Well, then. No reason to keep you." He strode off toward his office, no doubt glad that she hadn't put up a fight.

By the time Hermione made her way down to the Department of Mysteries, it was twenty past eight. The door to Trelawney's door was open, and the older witch looked lost in thought. When she noticed her visitor, a brief expression of surprise flitted across her face.

"Hermione, I'm surprised to see you. I assumed that you would be leaving with Tom."

"What do you mean?"

"He resigned this morning. Oh, of course, you probably have cases you need to finish before you can join him in the States. Well, I'm sure that such a promising Auror will have no trouble finding employment wherever she goes." Trelawey stood from her desk and hugged Hermione briefly. "If you ever return, I'm sure I'll be able to find a place for you in my department."

"I'll keep that in mind, thank you."

By the time Hermione reached the ground floor, she was borderline furious. Who did he think he was, leaving without telling her? He probably had some new scheme requiring privacy, or at the very least, was trying to make her feel guilty for being slow to return to their previous relationship. It wasn't going to work.

She sent a memo to Thomson, telling him she had an emergency at home, and left the building, Apparating as soon as she was able.

She appeared in their flat a moment later and was relieved to see all of Tom's books still on the shelves. Several of them were very rare, and he would never leave without them.

"Tom?" she called. There was no answer. She looked in the bedroom and recoiled when she saw the transfigured bed. Her first thought was that he was trying to make a statement about their relationship, but she quickly realized such a thing wasn't logical. He wouldn't have resigned over that. But if he really were leaving…

Hermione rushed back into the living area and espied the letter with the Gaunt ring next to it. She unsealed the letter and began to read

_Hermione,_

_If this letter hurts you, I am deeply sorry, but I have made my decision. You are unhappy with me, and I have come to the realization that your unhappiness is of greater importance to me than my own. In the last weeks, the only times I have seen you as you used to be have been when you were with Alphard Black. It has been painful to watch you with him, and what little hope I had that you would eventually return to me has all but disappeared. Do not think I have not considered trying to sever your attachment to him, you know me too well to believe otherwise, but separating you from him will by no means bring you closer to me. I have enough pride not to want to wait until you determine that you have given me enough of a second chance to satisfy your own moral code. I am grateful for the extra time we had together, but I cannot accept this shadow of a relationship when we once had so much more. I do not blame you for being unwilling or unable to return to how things were, everything has been the result of my own actions, but I do not wish to selfishly extend your suffering when it is unnecessary and purposeless. _

_Perhaps I am cowardly for not saying this to you in person, but I can be naught but the Slytherin I have always been. It is not in my nature to stand up and fight, and I know now that even if it were, I would still not be successful. So I am leaving for New York today. No one there will know me, and from what I have heard, no one will care that I am merely a Halfblood or that I am descended from Slytherin himself, with Americans being the egalitarian sort they are. You need not worry that I will cause any problems that would necessitate Auror intervention; I have learned too well how little grand plans matter in life. If you still love me at all, please trust me at least in this. _

_If you ever wish to find me, I have no doubt that you will be able to, but I do doubt that you will ever wish to. I have transferred most of the money in my account at Gringotts to you. Do what you wish with the books and other personal items in the flat. _

_Yours,_

_Tom Marvolo Riddle_

Hermione was shocked. After all the effort he had gone to for his second chance, this was how it ended. If the contents of the letter were true, she had successfully defeated Lord Voldemort for once and for all, but she could not think of that. All she could think of was that Tom, _her_ Tom, had left because he thought that she was only humouring him until she could justify leaving him. He thought that she would be happier with Alphard. That wasn't true, although she didn't care to think about how Tom could possibly have known otherwise with her and Alphard's behavior in the past week. She did not feel guilty, she would not, but she did need to stop Tom before he left.

Trelawney had said he was moving to New York, which meant he would need to use an international Portkey. Hermione Apparated back to the Ministry and ran inside, flashing her Auror identification to get past the entrance quickly and commandeer an elevator. The clock chimed quarter past nine just as she stepped from the elevator. She hurried down the hallway to the departure area and heard a pop just as she entered the room. Pushing to the front of the line, she urgently enquired whether Tom Riddle had departed. Receiving an affirmative answer along with a pitying look from the Reception Witch, Hermione stood, disbelieving that this could have happened to her again.

This was the second time that Tom had chosen to leave her, but for such differently reasons. Before, he had thought only of himself, throwing away the love she had for him and he for her, expecting that he would find something better on the other side of the mirror. Now, he had left because he thought that he was doing her a favor, enabling her to move on with Alphard Black, of all people.

Like an automaton, Hermione returned to the Auror section. Dash to the Portkey area notwithstanding, it seemed like such a pathetic end to a long, painful, but also beautiful relationship. For a short time, she had been truly happy with Tom, and she had dreamed that she would someday be that happy again, but Tom had lost hope, and now he was gone.


End file.
